


Bright Eyes

by wearing_tearing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Arson, Barebacking, Bartender Derek, Blow Jobs, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Canonical Character Death, Confessions, Crossdressing, Cupcakes, Derek Uses His Words, Drag Queens, F/M, Fire, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Fundraiser, Glitter, Hair Pulling, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Intercrural Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, Makeup, Nail Polish, Panties, Past Relationship(s), Possessive Behavior, Realization, Rimming, Threats, Underwear Kink, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Warning: Kate Argent, Waxing, Wigs, good things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:10:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 81,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles told him he was a cabaret performer he certainly wasn't expecting <em>this</em>, and now Derek doesn't know what to do with himself.</p><p>Because Stiles is a <em>drag queen</em> and about the hottest person Derek has ever seen in his life.</p><p> </p><p>Or; the one where Stiles is a <strike>drag queen</strike> cabaret performer and Derek somehow ends up being his <strike>makeup artist</strike> executive assistant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act One: Diamonds

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Jasnooki](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2016501) by [Caramelo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caramelo/pseuds/Caramelo)



> a special thanks to [leah](http://www.mozzierella.tumblr.com) for being her usual amazing self and to [beth](http://www.foreverblue-navy.tumblr.com) for agreeing to look this all over for me.
> 
> also, i'll be adding tags and more characters as i update the fic, so you guys should keep an eye on that. 
> 
> this is slightly based on the book _painted faces_ by l.h. cosway and i'm sorry.
> 
> **i do not give permission for any of my works to be added to or shared on other websites such as goodreads.**

“You’re not Laura,” is the first thing out of Derek’s mouth as he almost drops the box labeled “Paint Shit” on the floor.

He is ready for Laura and her sad smile - he made sure to mentally prepare himself for that as soon as he got the phone call from the nursery saying Peter was gone -, and how she’ll look at him and say that _it’s been a while baby bro_ and then will absolutely refuse to help him carry all of his shit inside the apartment, because even though she misses the fuck out of him she’s still his older sister. And that means she’s still a _bitch_.

Nevermind that she’s the one who asked him to move in, asked him to come back to Beacon Hills, asked him not to leave her alone here now that Uncle Peter is gone.

So it’s no wonder Derek is a little thrown when the front door opens before he can knock on it and the person standing there is most definitely _not Laura_.

Because Laura is a little shorter.

And has long black hair.

And has hazel green eyes just like Derek’s.

And she’s _not a guy_.

“No, I’m not.”

Derek takes a moment to appreciate the way the guy’s eyes seems to swirl from light brown to golden and back again as he shifts his head, the way his lips tilt up in a half smile, and the hand with chipped blue nail polish placed on top of the box as he helps Derek adjust his hold on it.

“Thanks,” Derek says, gripping the box more tightly.

“You must be Laura’s brother,” the guy smiles, eyes glinting in the sunlight. “I was just coming back from giving her her silver clutch back.”

“Derek. I’m Derek,” Derek tells him.

And suddenly he feels like he’s sixteen and stupid again, the tips of his ears turning red as the guy bites down on his lower lip. He wants to stop this, wants to stop the way his stomach twists and his heart starts beating a little faster and his mouth goes dry.

“I know,” he nods, before gesturing a hand at himself. “You can call me Foxy Red.”

Derek blinks, “Foxy Red?”

“And if we become friends you get an upgrade to calling me Foxy,” he says, winking at Derek.

“Foxy?” Derek repeats, because _who is this guy?_

“Yep,” he smiles, looking oddly pleased with himself. “Anyways, I should probably head back. I still have to lose the nail polish before I go to work.”

He waves his blue covered fingernails in front of Derek’s face, as if Derek somehow might have missed _that_ , and walks past Derek into the corridor.

“Right,” Derek says, slowly. “You wouldn’t want to go around with your nail polish chipped.”

“Exactly,” he says, smile widening. “I’ll see you around, Derek.”

And with that he’s turning on his back, opening the door to the apartment next to Laura’s, and disappearing inside. It’s not until Derek hears the snap of the door closing shut that he realizes the guy still hasn’t told him his real name.

“Not that I don’t enjoy the sight of you standing at my front door staring into empty air with a dumb look on your face, I think you should better start unloading your shit, little brother.”

If Derek yelps and jumps back at the sound of Laura’s voice in his ear, that’s no one’s business but his own. And the mop and bleach he has to use to clean the floor and walls from all the paint splatters from when he lost his hold on the box he was carrying.

“Thanks, Laura,” Derek snaps as he gets inside the apartment and goes to inspect the damage to all his paint shit.

He refuses to call it _art supplies_.

He doesn’t consider himself an _artist_. He rarely paints anything on canvas anymore, never really did to begin with, but he likes having them around for when the mood strikes. It’s also useful on the rare times someone comes to the garage he works at – or used to work at before he moved back here, anyways - asking for a customized paint job. All Derek has to do is get an idea for what type of color they want, mix it up on paper, show it to them, and see if they like it.

The inside of the box is a mess, paint everywhere, and he barely manages not to slap himself in the face for never bothering to screw the paint tube lids tight enough whenever he finished using them.

“You’re welcome,” Laura sneers at him from her place on the couch.

Derek glares and throws a brush at her head, only to have her duck away from it and get up, walking up to where he is and ruffling his hair.

“I missed you,” Laura says, and Derek’s heart lurches painfully in his chest at how sad she sounds.

“I’m sorry,” Derek mumbles, not looking at her.

Laura sighs and pokes him in the ribs, “You don’t have to say you’re sorry, Derek. All you had to do was come visit every once in a while.”

“I was busy,” Derek shrugs.

“Bullshit,” she snaps.

“Laura,” Derek warns.

“I get that you didn’t want to be here after…” she trails off, takes a deep breath, rubs a hand over her face. “But it’s been _years_ , Derek.”

“I’m here now,” Derek shrugs, not daring to look at her.

Laura knows better than anyone that when he was eighteen he grew tired of staring at the burnt remains of what used to be their lives. She knows he packed his bags, got in the Camaro, and drove off until he couldn’t smell burning flesh and smoke anymore.

But she doesn’t know why he never came back.

That if he hadn’t been so _young_ and _stupid_ and _in love_ their family would still be alive.

“For how long?”

And Derek can’t answer that - doesn’t know how -, so he makes his way from the living room to the kitchen, stopping at the sink so he can wash all the paint from his hands, and changes the subject.

“How do you know Foxy Red?”

Laura looks down at him from where she perched herself on top of the counter like he lost his fucking mind, until understanding dawns on her and her face splits into a wide smile, “Foxy Red, huh?”

“He was at the door when I got here,” Derek says. “Blue nail polish, golden eyes, hair sticking up in every direction, came to give you your silver clutch back.”

“And he introduced himself to you as Foxy Red?” Laura raises an eyebrow at him.

“If we become friends I get an upgrade to call him just _Foxy_ ,” Derek deadpans, and he can’t help but smile a little when he sees Laura throwing her head back and laughing. “What’s his name, anyway?”

Laura shakes her head, “Nope, I’m not telling you that.”

“Laura,” Derek says, drying his hands on his pants.

“You’ll just have to keep calling him Foxy, little bro.”

“We’re not even _friends_ yet,” and Derek can’t believe that just came out of his mouth, even as a joke.

“Oh, but I have no doubt you will be,” Laura grins wickedly at him and walks back into the living room.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Derek follows close behind her, because he knows that smile Laura just gave him. And that smile means bad, really bad things to Derek.

“That is for me to know, and you to brood about,” she says as she picks up the paintbrush off the floor and throws it at Derek, hitting him square on the chest.

“I don’t brood,” Derek scowls, holding the brush.

“Sure you don’t,” Laura waves a hand at him. “And you should probably unload all your things and move them to the guest bedroom before dinner tonight.”

“Why?” Derek narrows his eyes at her.

“Because _Foxy_ is stopping by,” Laura tells him, and then continues to speak before he can say anything, “And you need to go by the garage to talk to Boyd about your new job. And maybe thanking me for putting in a good word for you.”

Derek just arches an eyebrow at her and says nothing, because they both know he would have been hired anyway.

“Whatever,” Laura says, grabbing her keys and purse from the coffee table. “I have to get to work, so don’t break anything while you’re moving your things.”

“I’ll try my best,” Derek rolls his eyes.

“You do that,” Laura says as she opens the door and walks outside. “And I’ll tell _Foxy_ you’ve been asking about him.”

“ _Laura_ ,” Derek yells over the door being slammed, only to hear the distant sound of it being locked before he can open it and _strangle her_.

By the time he finally manages to find the spare key and unlock himself, Laura probably has already told Foxy all kinds of embarrassing shit about Derek and fucked everything up.

Not that there’s anything to fuck up.

Not that Derek _wants_ there to be.

Except for the fact that he totally fucking _does_ want it, and wonders what the fuck is it about this guy when Derek just met him and they’ve only spoken about three words to each other.

He wonders if it’s the chipped blue nail polish.

Because that was kind of hot, in a really weird way.

In the end he just settles for unloading his things from the Camaro. He didn’t bring much stuff - doesn’t have that many things anyway, not since the fire –, so it doesn’t take long for him to bring all his boxes up to the apartment and stack them into his new room for the time being. He doesn’t bother to unpack anything just yet, only goes for one of his duffels and grabs some fresh clothes so he can take a shower and stop by the garage.

And if Derek thinks about long fingers with blue painted fingernails wrapping around his cock as he jerks off in the shower, no one needs to know.

* * *

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Derek turns his head in the direction of the voice to find a woman resting her hip against the hood of a car. Even with her blonde hair tied up, no makeup, and grease stains all over her hands and clothes, Derek can tell she’s gorgeous.

And by the way she’s smiling at him, he can also tell she’ll probably suffocate him in his sleep.

“Erica, stop harassing the customers,” comes a male voice from under the car.

“I’m not harassing anyone,” she shrugs. “I’m only stating a fact.”

“You sound like Stiles,” says the voice.

“I’m not a costumer,” Derek interrupts before they can continue their banter. He really hopes that whoever this Stiles person is doesn’t work here, because if he or she is anything like Erica, Derek is going to _cut_ someone. “I’m here to see Boyd.”

The guy slides from his place under the car, his blonde curly hair glued to his forehead with sweat, and sits up to look at him, “You’re our new guy.”

“Derek,” Derek nods.

“Why, hi there Derek,” Erica purrs, grinning at him.

“Boyd’s out back,” says the guy. “I’m Isaac, and this is Erica.”

Derek nods at them both before pointing to the back of the shop, “I can just walk in?”

“Yep,” Isaac says. “He’s been expecting you.”

Derek tilts his chin up at them before walking past the parked cars and heading to a door at the back. There’s one of those whiteboards stuck to the front of it, and as Derek gets closer to it he can read the words “Bossman Boyd & the Golden Twins” written on it in black marker. He stops to take a deep breath - and wonder what kind of garage this is and what the fuck he got himself into - when the door opens.

“Derek Hale?”

Derek has to raise his head up a little to stare at the man in front of him, “Boyd?”

“Come on in,” he steps aside as he gestures for Derek to come inside.

He sits in one of the chairs placed in front of the desk and waits for Boyd to take his place behind it. The room looks organized, a nice change from the garage he used to work at in New York where you could almost never see the table from all the papers thrown on top of it.

“Well,” Boyd starts. “We both know I’m going to hire you already, so I don’t see a reason to drag this out. You must have heard from Laura that we need all the help we can get right now, since one of our other mechanics decided life in Beacon Hills wasn’t for him anymore and left. I’m gonna expect you here every day these first few weeks, expect on Friday mornings.”

“What happens on Friday mornings?” Derek furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“What happens is that your sister bullies us into having breakfast with her,” Boyd says, giving him a pointed look.

“I feel like I should apologize.”

“Don’t worry,” Boyd assures him. “Knowing Laura, you have it much worse.”

“Probably,” Derek sighs.

“Well,” Boyd continues. “You’ve already met the Golden Twins, Isaac and Erica.”

“What’s that about?” Derek asks, unable to help himself.

“Stiles calls them that, but that’s not important,” and Derek _really_ wants to ask him who this Stiles person is, but Boyd keeps talking. “What’s important is that Isaac is a genius with cars, and Erica is a goddess when it comes to bikes. That’s what they do here. I’ll be expecting you to help them out as we sort things out these first few weeks and send some cars back out to their owners. Yeah?”

Derek nods, “I can do that.”

He doesn’t stay long after that, only letting Boyd show him around the shop and telling him a little bit about what kind of work is lined up for him. Derek also learns that Boyd and Erica are together, with the way Erica comes up to them and plasters herself to Boyd’s front, staining his shirt, and smiles fondly up at him.

Derek tries not to breathe a sigh of relief at that, but by the way Isaac stares at him and snorts, he’s not sure he succeeded.

He gets back to Laura’s apartment to find all of his life’s belongings staring back at him in boxes. After he turned eighteen and moved away, Derek learned not to live with much. He knows Laura kept tabs on him back then and made sure to always deposit money – insurance money - in his bank account, and he’s grateful that she didn’t try to contact him on those first few years.

Derek never stayed in one place too long, because that involved getting close to people, or at least comfortable around them, and it was the last thing he wanted to happen.

Not when the last time he let himself do that he got almost his entire family killed.

Coming back to Beacon Hills had never been an option, not really. He was fine in New York, _better_. He had friends and a steady job and the guilt didn’t make him want to claw his eyes out most days.

But then Uncle Peter died.

He remembers getting the call from the nursing home, someone telling him they couldn’t get ahold of Laura and his name was next in the emergency contacts. He remembers the crushing sadness and despair that another one of his family members was dead, and almost not getting to the bathroom on time to throw up his guts.

He doesn’t remember much after that.

He didn’t go to the funeral, couldn’t bring himself to be there just yet, to see them lowering Peter’s body under the ground. He also doesn’t remember much of the next few months other than some hazy memories of going to work and coming back home to sleep, only to wake up from a nightmare and the smell of smoke.

It’s after three months of dodging Laura’s calls that Derek comes home to find her sitting by his door.

The first thing she does when she sees him is to slap in the face.

The second is to break down and cry.

And the third is to ask him to come back.

To not leave her alone.

To stop running.

So he hugs her and says “Okay.”

* * *

Derek regrets ever coming back to this place as Laura gets home from work and puts him on salad duty.

“I didn’t sign up for this.”

“I don’t care,” Laura tells him, handing him a knife. “If you’re going to spend the entire time lusting after Foxy during dinner, the least you can do is help.”

“I’m not _lusting_ ,” Derek mumbles, scowling down at the knife and considering stabbing Laura in the eye.

He’s not lusting, not really.

He just likes the guy’s hands.

“Oh, then you don’t want to know that Foxy kept asking about you at work today,” Laura says over her shoulder as she grabs whatever she needs from the fridge.

“He works with you?” Derek raises an eyebrow at that because Laura works in a _library_.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“I can’t believe that’s what you’re focusing on,” Laura rolls her eyes at him.

To be honest, Derek can’t either.

But that’s what his sense of self-preservation tells him to do, and he knows by now that when he doesn’t listen to it bad things happen.

So he just shrugs at her and goes back to cutting carrots.

“You’re impossible,” Laura huffs.

“And you’re mean,” Derek mumbles.

“Nice comeback, little brother.”

“Shut up.”

“And they just keep getting better and better.”

“I hate you.”

“No,” and Derek can almost _feel_ the smug coming off of Laura in waves. “You really don’t.”

“Why did I ever agree to move in with you?” Derek shakes his head, his lips curling up in a small smile.

He missed this, the easy banter with Laura. How she annoys the fuck out of him and he doesn’t know whether he wants to hug her and never let go or strangle her half to death.

“I don’t know,” Laura says, her tone serious before she breaks into a smile and waggles her eyebrows at him. “But at least you met Foxy.”

Derek groans and throws a carrot at her, feeling mildly disappointed when she catches it with her mouth.

They spend the next couple of hours cooking - or Derek helping Laura cook by chopping things into tiny pieces and not standing in the way – and talking. They catch up on the little things they missed in the three months Derek was _a complete and utter fucking asshole_ , Laura’s words, and Derek is surprised by how good this feels, staying here with Laura and just being her little brother again.

He’s setting the table when there’s a knock on the door and Laura runs to answer it, throwing him a smile as she passes. Derek scowls at her and ignores the way his stomach twists as he hears the door closing and both of them laughing at something.

“Look, Derek,” Laura says, holding out a Tuperwear in front of his face. “Foxy made lemon cupcakes!”

“You bake?” Derek asks Foxy.

“I’m a man of many talents,” he shrugs.

Laura snorts and kisses them both on the cheek before saying, “I’m gonna go put this in the kitchen. Foxy, please make sure Derek sets the table right.”

Derek frowns at her retreating back before looking down at the table and seeing that he placed an extra fork instead of a knife in one of the seats. Before he can make any moves to grab the fork, a hand reaches out and does it for him.

“No nail polish this time?” Derek points a finger to Foxy’s hand.

“Why? You miss it?” and he’s tilting his head to the side at Derek, teeth coming down on his bottom lip as if to contain a smile.

Derek doesn’t want to say that _yes_ he does miss it, so he changes the subject, “When are you going to tell me you’re real name?”

“Because it’s ridiculous having me calling you Foxy all the time,” Derek says, and then adds, “Foxy.”

Foxy throws his head back and laughs, pale throat exposed and shoulders shaking, and Derek can’t help but think how _attractive_ he is. Especially in the dark jeans and red button down with the sleeves rolled up he’s wearing.

“I think I disagree with you,” he says, smiling brightly. “I kind of like it when you call me Foxy.”

Derek feels the tip of his ears blush, and he’s never been happier when Laura comes out of the kitchen and into the room, carrying a bottle of wine.

“Please tell me you won’t try to get me drunk tonight,” Foxy groans as Laura waves the bottle at him.

“I will tell you no such thing,” she smirks at him, going for the glasses on the table and filling them up.

“Come on,” Foxy whines, trying to take the bottle from her, only to be elbowed in the stomach, “Ugh, you bitch. I have a show tonight, I can’t be drunk.”

“You have a show?” Derek frowns, poking Laura in the ribs and grabbing the bottle from her hand when she yelps and shies away from him. “I thought you two worked together.”

“We do,” Laura explains, glaring at him as he places the bottle on top of one of her bookshelves.

“But I’m also a cabaret performer,” Foxy adds, like it’s _no big deal_.

Like Derek has _no idea_ what that means and there aren’t a million fucking images of all the possible things he could be _doing_ running around in his mind.

“What does that entail, exactly?” Derek clears his throat, fixing his gaze on a spot over Foxy’s shoulder.

Derek doesn’t dare to look him in the face right now, because he’s pretty sure the earlier blush in his ears has run down to his neck and it’s making its way up to his face and cheeks.

“Oh, you know,” Foxy says, waving a hand around. “It’s a bit of music, a bit of acting, a bit of interacting with the audience. No big deal.”

“And let’s not forget the costumes,” Laura says, sounding amused. “And the dancing.”

“Dancing?” Derek asks in a strangled voice.

“Shut up, Laura,” Foxy mumbles, cheeks turning red.

Laura looks from Derek to Foxy and claps her hands together, “Well, how about I get food on the table while you,” she points a finger at Foxy, “ask Derek all kinds of questions about his life?”

“How about you choke on your wine instead?” Derek grunts back, narrowing his eyes at her as she turns her back on him, flips him off over her shoulder, and steps into the kitchen.

“Oh,” Foxy says, and when Derek turns to look at him his eyes are bright with amusement. “I like that idea.”

Derek sighs and looks up at the ceiling, wondering what he did to deserve this.

The smell of smoke and the sound of a woman’s laughter suddenly come to mind.

“I don’t,” Derek says, pushing a chair back and sitting on it.

“Come on,” Foxy urges, taking the seat across from him. “I’ll tell you my real name.”

“Really?” Derek raises an eyebrow at him.

“Well, not my real _real_ name,” Foxy rolls his eyes. “Because it’s horrible and no one but my dad and I can pronounce it, but I’ll tell you the name everyone knows me by.”

“I thought that was _Foxy_ ,” Derek says flatly.

“That’s only from Thursday to Saturday nights,” Foxy snickers.

Derek huffs, and almost jumps in his seat when Laura places a bowl of spaghetti bolognaise in front of him before taking her seat by the head of the table.

“Stop playing my brother and tell him already,” Laura rolls her eyes at them, serving herself of some food.

“But it’s so much fun the way his face gets all scrunched up whenever he has to call me _Foxy_ ,” Foxy says, pouting.

Derek runs a hand over his face and wonders if Laura would hunt him down and kill him if he got up, got the Camaro, and drove back to New York. For some reason he thinks she might, so he leans back on his chair and levels Foxy with the blankest expression he can muster.

“Your name first,” Derek says, taking the spoon from Laura and putting some spaghetti on his plate. “Then you can ask me.”

“Whatever I want?” Foxy asks, sounding way too excited for Derek’s taste.

“No,” Derek replies, because he’s not stupid.

Before Foxy can say anything Laura opens her mouth and, “Whatever you want to know about Derek that he’s too stubborn to answer, you can just ask me.”

“I’m baking you extra cupcakes for that one,” Foxy nods in her direction, face serious.

“And I’m firing you as my sister,” Derek tells her, passing the bowl and spoon to Foxy so he can serve himself.

“Please,” Laura snorts. “Then who would make you pancakes for breakfast?”

“You don’t make me pancakes for breakfast,” Derek says, raising both his eyebrows at her.

“I could,” Laura snaps.

“Yes, you could,” Foxy soothes her, patting her on the arm and then turning to Derek. “So, Derek. Questions.”

“So, _Foxy_ ,” Derek says. “Your name.”

“You’re no fun,” Foxy furrows his eyebrows in mock hurt.

“He’s really not,” Laura agrees around a mouthful of pasta.

“Am, too,” Derek mumbles, scowling at his food.

“You’re _adorable_ ,” Foxy coos. “Laura, he’s adorable. You never told me your brother was adorable, you lying liar who lies.”

“He’s not adorable,” Laura wrinkles her nose. “He’s moody and grumpy and broody and leaves paint stains all over the place.”

“Paint stains?” Foxy turns to Derek, looking interested.

“No questions until I get your name,” Derek tells him, trying to ignore the warm feeling in his gut at Foxy calling him _adorable_.

Because he’s not adorable.

Kittens and puppies and babies are adorable, but not _Derek_.

“I’m Stiles,” Foxy, _Stiles_ , says. “Stilinski.”

“What kind of name is _Stiles Stilinski_?” Derek blurts out before he can help himself and cringes at the glare Laura sends his way.

“The kind of name that’s _mine_ ,” Stiles narrows his eyes at him.

“Sorry,” Derek says, blushing and staring down at the table. “It’s just. I. You.”

“Oh, that’s what’s _adorable_ ,” Laura sneers. “Stiles, you made my brother blush. You’re my new favorite.”

“It’s okay, Derek,” Stiles says, ignoring Laura. “I just get… defensive.”

“Still,” Derek shrugs, keeping his focus on the table cloth. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t what I meant. It’s just. Stiles Stilinski is kind of…”

“An awesome name?” Stiles offers, as if to daring Derek to say otherwise.

“I was going for unusual,” Derek mumbles.

“That’s because that’s not his _real_ real name,” Laura pipes up.

Derek’s head snaps up at that.

“You can forget about the extra cupcakes,” Stiles glares at her, ignoring Laura’s shocked gasp and glassy eyes as if that was the worst thing to ever happen to her.

“I thought we had a deal,” Derek says to Stiles.

“We did,” Stiles nods. “I told you I’d tell you the name everyone knows me by because no one can pronounce my real one.”

Derek opens his mouth to say that _no_ , that wasn’t what they agreed on, but snaps it back shut after he takes a moment to replay the conversation in his head.

Derek narrows his eyes at Stiles, who merely smiles at him and asks, “Paint stains?”

“I custom paint cars and bikes,” Derek explains. “Or at least I used to back in New York. I’m not sure what Boyd will want me to do here, though.”

And at the mention of Boyd, Derek startles.

“You’re the Stiles that calls Erica and Isaac the Golden Twins.”

“That’s him, alright,” Laura says over the rim of her glass.

“What?” Stiles huffs. “They look _the same_. With the curly blonde hair and crazy eyes and amazing mechanic skills.”

“Crazy eyes?” Derek asks, eyes a little bit wide.

“Ignore him,” Laura tells Derek, and then turns to Stiles, “No scaring my brother before he starts working at the garage.”

“I think he can take care of himself,” Stiles says, raking his eyes over Derek’s arms and chests.

Derek absolutely does not preen at that.

He doesn’t.

“Can we please not?” Laura asks, voice a little strangled. “I’m eating dinner.”

Derek and Stiles both look from Laura to each other and roll their eyes, Derek’s lips twitching up a bit as Stiles chuckles quietly to himself as he twirls some spaghetti around his fork.

“So,” Derek starts, waiting for Stiles to finish swallowing, and then taking a moment to compose himself as the image of Stiles with his mouth wrapped around Derek’s dick comes to mind. “Where do you… perform?”

“At a club my buddy Danny owns,” Stiles says, and then adds. “Jungle.”

Derek almost chokes on his drink at that, because he knows Jungle.

His seventeen year old self remembers the place well.

And by the pointed look Laura is giving him she also remembers all the times she was the one who had to drive him back home and make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit whenever he got too drunk to take care of himself properly.

“Danny bought it after the old owner died,” Stiles continues, oblivious. “He knew I did shows during college, even went to see a few, and traveled around during the summer, so when I graduated he offered the spot to me. I said yes.”

“And that was two amazing glittery filled years ago,” Laura completes, smiling widely at both of them.

“You should come to my show tomorrow night,” Stiles says to Derek, leaning forward in his seat.

“Yeah, baby bro,” Laura agrees, poking him in the arm with her fork. “I think you’d like it. And I have to go anyways, to help Foxy get ready.”

“Ahm…,” Derek stares from Laura’s smirking face to Stiles’ eager one and says, “Sure.”

* * *

Derek doesn’t know why he agreed to this.

Especially when Laura disappeared somewhere backstage half an hour ago, Erica and Boyd are busy sucking each other’s face, Isaac is in deep conversation with Stiles’ best friend Scott, and Derek is currently being felt up against his will by a guy wearing a purple glitter corset.

Derek tries to ignore it. At first he thinks it’s an accident, that the guy just sort of bumps into him while he’s getting a drink. The second time he feels a hand on his ass he looks back, but the guy is dancing, so Derek just chalks it up as him being clumsy and not meaning it. The third time though, when he looks back, the guy is staring directly at him with a smile on his face, a smile that quickly vanishes as Derek glares at him and tells him that the next time he puts his hand where he’s not invited he’s going to get his fingers broken.

He’s still glaring at the guy’s back when Laura shows up by his side.

“Stop looking so grumpy,” she says, stealing his beer and taking a sip. “Stiles will be on any minute now.”

“What does he do, anyway?” Derek asks her, taking his bottle back.

“You’ll see,” Laura smiles wickedly at him, eyes glinting in the dark.

It’s not five minutes later when a guy with the deepest set of dimples Derek has ever seen steps on stage with a microphone in his hand. There are several wolf whistles and cat calls as he smiles at the audience, and waves in their direction as Scott jumps and yells “Danny!” loudly.

“Well, hello everyone,” Danny says, his voice echoing over the club. “I hope you’re all having a great time at Jungle tonight. But right now... well, I know many of you have seen her perform, so there’s no need for an introduction, just hold on to your glasses, and your men, and enjoy it!”

A slow beat starts up. Laura grabs Erica by the hand and drags her closer to the stage and they both start moving their hips slowly to it, Boyd coming to stand beside Derek at the bar and giving him a nod before they follow the girls. Derek thinks about calling Isaac and Scott to come with them, but they’re still talking and Derek doesn’t think they even noticed what’s happening.

It’s when Boyd nudges him with his shoulder that, just as a voice joins the beat, Derek looks back at the stage.

And almost passes the fuck out.

Because that’s Stiles up there.

Stiles in a black straight shoulder length [wig](http://www.gorgeoushairwigs.com/images/China%20Doll%20short.jpg) with straight blunt bangs, his lips painted red, eyes lined in black. Derek can see the glitter on his cheeks, shining as he moves his head. He has on a [one piece leotard](http://www.sequinqueen.com/product.php?productid=2332&cat=96&page=1) covered in what Derek thinks are tiny crystals for it to be reflecting so much light, with fringes hanging from the end of it and brushing his thighs as he moves.

Derek rakes his gaze down over Stiles’ body until he stops at Stiles’ feet. He’s wearing transparent two inch platform five inch [heels](http://www.workshopmall.com/fashionable-transparent-2-inch-platform-5-inch-high-heel-pu-womens-sexy-heels_d7804.html), and Derek pretends not to notice Boyd looking at him and smirking when he mutters a curse under his breath.

When Stiles told him he was a cabaret performer he certainly wasn’t expecting _this_ , and now Derek doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Because Stiles is a _drag queen_ and about the hottest person Derek has ever seen in his life.

He keeps rolling his hips to the beat, strutting from one end of the stage to the other and singing as the people cheer him on, until he comes to a stop in the middle of it, practically right in front of where Derek, Boyd, Laura and Erica are standing. Stiles’ eyes lock with Derek’s and he curls his red lips up in a smirk.

Derek swallows hard as Stiles goes down on his knees on the stage in front of him, legs spread wide, the fringes of his piece falling down to cover his crotch, and lifts the hand that’s not holding the mike up so that his palm is facing Derek.

As he sings _palms rise to the universe_ he moves his hand forward, _as we moonshine and molly_ he lets his fingers trace over Derek’s cheek, _feel the warmth we’ll never die_ and his silver glitter nail polish nails scratch lightly at the stubble on Derek’s jaw, _we’re like_[ _diamonds_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWA2pjMjpBs) _in the sky_ he winks, lets his hand drop, and gets up again, leaving Derek stunned and blushing a little as he continues his show.

Derek is vaguely aware of Laura jumping up and down somewhere on his right, Erica clapping her hands excitedly, and Boyd smiling knowingly. He’s too busy trying to hide his hard on from his sister and future co-workers, and trying to come to terms with how fucking attracted he is to Stiles dressed as a woman.

When the song finishes, Stiles takes a bow and hops of the stage, instantly being hugged and kissed on the cheek by at least four different ladies.

Derek can’t really tell with all the shimmer and hair and legs that go on for _ever_.

Danny takes the mic from Stiles and demands “a round of applause for Foxy Red!”, and then he’s introducing the next act as Stiles disentangles himself from a particularly busty guy and walks towards them.

Scott and Isaac must have found them while Derek had his eyes glued to Stiles’ ass, because the first person Stiles throws himself into is when he gets closer is Scott, who hugs him back and congratulates him. Isaac and Boyd are next, both grinning at him when Stiles throws his arms across their shoulders and brings them together in a hug. He kisses Laura and Erica on their cheeks, wiping away the red lipstick stain he leaves behind, laughing when they start running their hands over the crystals on his leotard, and slapping Erica’s hand away when she starts pulling on the fringes next to his ass.

Laura tilts her head up to whisper something in Stiles’ ear, and Derek doesn’t like the way she keeps glancing at him. But then he can’t do anything about it like chuck his beer bottle at her head because Stiles is walking towards him, and he only stops when he places a hand flat on the middle of Derek’s chest and leans down to kiss his cheek.

“What did you think?” he asks after he pulls back, but making no move to either take his hand off Derek’s chest or wipe away the red lipstick from his face.

On a normal day they’re about the same height, but since this is as far from normal as Derek can get right now, with Stiles wearing heels and towering over him, he has to tilt his head up to meet his eyes.

He kind of likes it.

Derek brings a hand up and places it over Stiles’, tapping his fingers over Stiles’ nails.

“I like the nail polish.”

Stiles clutches at his imaginary pearls, pretending to look offended as he says, “That’s it? _I like the nail polish_? No comments about my sexy as fuck outfit? Or how my ass looks amazing when I have heels on? Or that my lip-syncing skills are out of this fucking _world_?”

“I guess all of that was okay, too,” Derek shrugs, bringing his hand up and tugging at the end of Stiles’ wig. “You do look good in a wig, though.”

“Foxy looks good in _anything_ , bright eyes,” Stiles says, taking his head off Derek’s chest and flipping his hair over his shoulder.

“Really,” Derek shakes his head at him. “You looked good up there.”

“You really think so?” Stiles asks, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Yeah,” Derek clears his throat, averting his gaze. “It was a good show, Foxy.”

Stiles smiles brightly at him and opens his mouth to say something when Laura shows up at his back, her arms going around Stiles’ waist.

“We need to get you out of your clothes,” Laura says, looking at Derek over Stiles’ shoulder.

“Oh, honey,” Stiles laughs. “You know I don’t swing that way.”

“Oh, I know,” Laura says, and then winks at Derek. “But Derek didn’t.”

“ _Laura_ ,” Derek says, staring at his sister wide-eyed and wondering if it’s possible for people to _die of embarrassment_.

“Oh,” Stiles says, blinking owlish from Laura to Derek until his face breaks into a wide smile. “Interesting.”

Derek glares at both of them, and he’s never been happier in his fucking life for crappy club lights when his ears start to redden.

“You should stop glaring, Derek,” Laura tells him. “It makes your face look weird.”

“You’re an asshole,” Derek points a finger at Laura. “And I’m going to kill you.”

“I don’t know, Laura,” Stiles says, a thoughtful look on his face. “I think the whole grumpy look is kind of hot.”

“You’re both assholes,” Derek says, pressing his lips together in a thin line and feeling the heat creep up his face at Stiles thinking he’s _hot_. “And I don’t like either of you.”

“I think he’s lying,” Stiles tells Laura, pursing his lips.

“I _know_ he’s lying,” Laura smirks. “He does this thing with his eyebrows that’s totally his tell.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just glares at both of them and gives them his back, making his way to the bar.

He’s drinking his beer and thinking about different ways to murder Laura and get away with it when he feels a warm puff of breath against the back of his neck.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” Stiles says as Derek turns to look at him.

Stiles swapped the leotard for jeans and a tight black shirt that stretches across his shoulders, and the only makeup left on his face is a hint of red lipstick and some smudges of glitter on his cheeks.

Oh, and the eyeliner.

It’s like all of Derek’s Christmas have come together in the form of Stiles Stilinski.

“Then you should stop making fun of me,” Derek says, narrowing his eyes and ignoring the warm pull in his gut.

“Then you should stop making it so easy,” Stiles shrugs, and then pinches Derek’s left cheek. “And you look cute when you blush.”

“I’m not _cute_ ,” Derek scowls, and he’s aware that he sounds like a five year old right now but he doesn’t _care_.

Not when Stiles grins at him and says, “Okay, big guy. You’re hot. And manly. And you probably kill puppies in your free time.”

“Just unsuspecting big sisters,” Derek deadpans.

“You’re funny.”

Derek lifts his beer to him, “I’m available for special occasions and corporate events.”

Stiles throws his head back and laughs, his entire body shaking with it, and Derek starts picking with the label of his beer to keep himself from leaning forward and biting at Stiles’ exposed throat.

Stiles is still chucking a little bit when he says, “It’s just that… You’re kind of angry looking.” Stiles gestures to Derek’s face and scrunches his up in what Derek thinks it’s supposed to be an imitation of him. “With all the glaring and scowling and whatnot.”

“I’m not angry looking,” Derek scowls.

“And I’m not a drag queen,” Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Stiles!”

They both turn to see Scott making his way to them, Isaac on his side, before stopping and throwing an arm across Stiles’ shoulder. Derek raises an eyebrow at Isaac, looking from him to Scott, and tries not to laugh when Isaac just shrugs and rubs at the back of his neck.

“Hey, buddy,” Stiles smiles at him, ruffling Scott’s hair.

“Is it okay if I leave with Isaac?” Scott asks, and Derek has to say he’s impressed with the guy’s puppy-dog eyes. “I know I’m your ride, but…”

“Dude, what about Allison?”

Scott just smiles at him, big and bright and smug.

“I don’t want to know, do I?” Stiles shakes his head, then flicks Scott on the nose. “I’ll catch a ride with Derek.”

“You will?” Derek raises an eyebrow at him.

“I can always ask Laura and come up with new ways to make fun of you the entire car ride back home,” Stiles shrugs.

“You will,” Derek nods.

“Thanks, man,” Scott nods at Derek before letting go of Stiles and snaking his arm around Isaac’s waist and walking away. “I’ll call you later, Stiles!”

“Use protection!” Stiles yells after them.

Derek only arches an eyebrow in question when Stiles turns to look back at him.

“I’m glad to inform you that your co-worker, Isaac Lahey, is going to have a threesome tonight,” Stiles says, laughing when Derek makes a face at him.

“Allison?”

“Scott’s girlfriend,” Stiles explains. “They’ve been together since high school, so I guess that’s why they like to spice things up every once in a while.”

“By having threesomes with Isaac.”

“Among other things.”

“Do I want to know how you know that?” Derek asks, pursing his lips together.

“Not even _I_ want to know how I know that,” Stiles says, shuddering. “I’ve walked in on them having sex way more times than I’m comfortable with.”

Derek snorts at the horrified look on Stiles’ face, “That must have been awful for you.”

“Don’t make fun,” Stiles narrows his eyes at him. “How do you think you’d feel like if you walked in on Laura having sex?”

Derek scrunches up his face in disgust, and then narrows his eyes as he sees Stiles smirking at him. “You’re as evil as she is.”

Stiles’ smirk turns into a full-blown smile as he leans closer to Derek and says, “You have no idea.”

Before Derek can do something stupid like _kiss the fuck out of him_ , Stiles grabs him by the wrist and starts walking.

“What are you doing?” Derek asks, rooting his heels to the floor.

Stiles glances back at him, moving so they’re holding hands, and smiles, “Dance with me.”

Derek starts shaking his head before Stiles even finishes his sentence, because if there’s one thing Derek Hale doesn’t do is _dance_. “I don’t dance.”

“With me you do,” Stiles tells him, pulling at their joined hands with a surprising amount of strength, making Derek stumble a little.

Derek glares at the back of Stiles’ head and tries to get his hand free, only to forget he ever wanted to do that in the first place when Stiles starts shaking his hips to whatever song is playing. He knows he’s staring, that’s he’s not being discrete about it, but he can’t help it, because Stiles dancing is like a direct line to Derek’s dick.

Stiles does a little twist with his entire body so that he ends up facing Derek, before tugging on Derek’s hand still in his and turning him around, slipping his arms tight around Derek’s waist so that his front is plastered to Derek’s back.

Derek’s entire body goes tense as Stiles tries to sway them back and forth with the music.

“Relax, bright eyes,” Stiles says into his ear. “Follow my lead.”

“Easy for you to say,” Derek mutters under his breath, trying to relax.

He feels Stiles’ chest move as he chuckles, feels the warm breath against the side of his neck.

“Just move your hips with me, c’mon,” Stiles says, letting his hands fall to Derek’s hips and moving their bodies together.

Derek takes a deep breath and tries to keep up with the sway of Stiles’ body against his own, doing his best to ignore the way Stiles’ crotch brushes against his ass every other move or so. He thinks he just about got used to the rhythm they have going when Stiles turns again, this time so they’re face to face.

“See, that’s not so hard,” Stiles smiles at him, running his hands up and down Derek’s back and pressing their bodies together.

Derek closes his eyes because Stiles has _no idea_ how hard this is.

Or maybe he does, with the way he slips a thigh between Derek’s legs and pulls him closer.

Derek puts his arms around Stiles’ shoulder, one of his hands flat between his shoulder blades as the other plays with the short hair at his nape as they dance. Derek feels Stiles’ sharp intake of breath more than he hears it, feels Stiles’ lips brush against the shell of his ear.

“Did I thank you for coming?” Stiles asks just as he rolls his hips forward, and Derek almost chokes on his own spit as he feels Stiles’ lips curl into a smirk against his skin.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Thank you, Derek,” Stiles says, placing a kiss on Derek’s neck.

Just as Derek’s leans back to look at him and then lean in to show Stiles how it was no problem _all at_ , he hears Laura scream, “There you two are!”

Derek pulls back to fast he almost stumbles into the couple behind him, only to look back at Laura glancing from him to Stiles and back again. It’s not a second later that he finds himself with an armful of Laura as she tries to tackle him to the ground.

“I knew you had the hots for Foxy,” she whispers furiously in his ear as he tries to push her off of him.

“Then why did you interrupt us?” Derek grunts, and Laura lets go of him so suddenly that he almost falls on his ass again.

“Let’s go home,” Laura says, abruptly.

Derek scowls at her, pulling the hem of his shirt down from where it rode up. He doesn’t know what Laura is thinking right now, but she has her _I can’t believe it took me this long to figure this out_ look on and there’s no way that will bode well for either Derek or his mental well-being.

Not that he can put Laura in a headlock and threaten to spill paint all over her designer shoes if she doesn’t tell him what she’s thinking.

At least not while they’re at Jungle, anyway.

“I’m…” Stiles trails off, looking from Laura’s face to Derek’s in confusion. “I’m catching a ride with Derek?”

“That’s good,” Laura nods at them before turning around and walking towards the exit.

Derek and Stiles stare dumbly at her until she disappears somewhere in the crowd, only to come back a few minutes later with Erica and Boyd, raise her eyebrows at them and mouth _let’s go_ when they don’t move.

“What just happened?” Stiles asks as she disappears again.

Derek sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose because his fucking _sister_ , grabs Stiles’ hand in his and says, “Let’s go, Foxy.”

Derek’s too busy concentrating on the heat of Stiles’ hand against his that he misses the way Stiles’ eyes soften as he says “Okay.”

* * *

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Laura sighs as she takes another bite of her cupcake.

Derek stops with his water bottle halfway to his mouth while Stiles chokes on his spit and just stares wide-eyed between the two of them.

This is not happening.

He did not come back here after all these years only to have Laura say this to him.

“I think I’m gonna…,” Stiles stars, only to be interrupted by Derek.

“What are you talking about?” and Derek hates how small his voice sounds as he looks at the ground in front of her feet.

Laura looks up startled at that and blanches at the terrified look on Derek’s face.

“Oh, Derek, _no_ ,” Laura says, waving her hands at him and leaving crumbles all over the place. “That’s not what I meant. And, Stiles, you’re not going anywhere.”

“What did you mean?” Derek asks, just as Stiles says, “I really think I should.”

“I meant I don’t think I can be Stiles’ assistant anymore,” Laura huffs, then stands up to drape herself all over Derek’s side on the couch and pokes him in the ribs. “I didn’t mean whatever horrible shit you were thinking, baby bro.”

Derek breathes in relief, only to go all tense again when Stiles’ shrieks, “You can’t be my assistant anymore?”

“Stiles-”

“No!” Stiles yells at her, his arms flailing. “See if I ever do anything nice to you again! I _need_ you, Laura. You know I’m not allowed to choose my outfit and do my hair and makeup alone since the Cher Incident. You _know_ this!”

“Cher Incident? Derek asks, and Stiles actually _growls_ at him for that.

“Oh my god, Stiles,” Laura rolls her eyes at him. “Calm the fuck down.”

“Calm the fuck down?!” and now Stiles is pacing back and forth in their living room, shooting daggers at her. “You know how important this is to me!”

“Yes, I do. And I don’t see a reason for you to be all worked up about it,” Laura says, and the look Stiles gives her is so full of betrayal that Derek kind of wants to strangle Laura for making him look like this.

“I don’t think you’re helping, Laura,” is what Derek says instead.

“If Stiles would just let me _speak_ for a second before going all gung-ho on me, you’d see that I am, in fact, helping,” Laura snaps at both of them before turning to Stiles and lifting her hands up, as if showing him she’s not a threat. “I can’t be your assistant anymore. I’m going to start working more hours at the library, and I don’t think I’ll be able to manage _that_ plus helping you get ready for your shows.”

Stiles is looking at her like he wants to kill her, and Derek is about three seconds away from putting himself between them and trying to work something out.

At least until Laura says, “But that doesn’t mean Derek can’t.”

“What?” Derek and Stiles ask at the same time, both staring at her like she completely lost her fucking mind.

“Derek has the time,” Laura lists off. “And he has steady hands, so you don’t need to worry about him smudging your eyeliner or anything. He’s good at combining colors because of his job, so he won’t let you wear something, like, orange and blue together. And I know he has good taste in clothes because whenever I went to visit him in New York and took him shopping he always made some great observations about what look good on me and what didn’t. So, I can’t help you anymore but he can.”

Laura finishes her speech by sticking the rest of the cupcake into her mouth and smiling smugly at both of them, who are still staring at her like what she said made no sense whatsoever.

Derek is torn between wanting to kill her and congratulating her on her evil match-making plans, but settles for buying her a really expensive present when Stiles looks down at him from where he’s standing in the middle of the living room, eyes hopeful, “Would you be willing to do that?”

“I work in the mornings,” Derek says, but he knows it’s a weak argument when Stiles narrows his eyes at him.

“My shows are only from Thursday through Saturday,” Stiles says. “And I know you don’t work on Friday mornings because Laura bullied Boyd and the Twins into having breakfast with us for the rest of our lives.”

“Hey,” Laura protests, frowning at Stiles.

“I don’t know anything about makeup,” Derek tries again.

“You paint for a living,” Stiles says. “Just think of my face as your canvas and my eye shadows as different paints and my brushes as… well, as your brushes.”

Derek and Laura both blink at him before Laura says, “That was deep.”

“Oh, shut up,” Stiles snaps at her. “I’m still mad at you.”

Laura presses her lips together but doesn’t say anything, just stares at Derek, who’s staring at Stiles, who’s staring straight back at him, until Derek leaves out a heavy sigh and nods.

“Really?” Stiles grins at him, clapping his hands together.

“Yeah,” Derek says, and he knows this is going to be the worst idea _ever_ , but he can’t say he cares that much when Stiles lets out a yelp and throws himself at him, wrapping his arms tightly around Derek’s neck and kissing him soundly on the cheek.

“Thanks, bright eyes,” he whispers against Derek’s ear before pulling back to smile at him, his eyes glinting.

“You’re welcome,” Laura pipes up from where she’s trying to shove Stiles’ legs off of her.

Stiles looks back at her for a moment before letting go of Derek and getting up from the couch, disappearing through the hallway that leads to both Laura and Derek’s rooms. When he comes back he’s holding a silver clutch bag and one of Laura’s black leather jackets, and he stops only long enough to point a finger at Laura and say, “You’re an asshole and I’m never giving these back.”

He’s out the door and inside his apartment before Laura can yell, “Stiles!”


	2. Act Two: Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek pines until he doesn't anymore

Derek is currently sprawled over the bed while Stiles goes through his closet in search for something to wear. Stiles has black boxers on, a black lacy bra, and red suede stiletto ankle [boots](http://www.lightinthebox.com/suede-stiletto-heel-ankle-boots-party-evening-shoes_p471915.html). His hair is a mess from him running his fingers through it, and as he turns to look back at the bed, Derek can see the dark red lipstick and eyeliner on him.

“Like what you see?” Stiles asks, voice husky, eyelids lowered.

“Yeah,” Derek whispers and spreads his legs a little bit wider, shifts so he can take his shirt off before he falls back on the pillows, never taking his eyes off of Stiles. Stiles, who steps up to the bed and leans one knee on the mattress, crawling up so that he’s between Derek’s spread thighs, one hand coming up to trace Derek’s jaw before settling against the side of his neck.

Derek runs his fingers over one of Stiles’ bra straps, slowly lowering over his shoulder before leaning forward and placing a kiss to the skin there. He feels Stiles shudder as he makes his way up, raking his teeth over Stiles’ pulse point and sucking marks all over his neck.

Stiles pulls back, placing a hand flat on Derek’s chest when he tries to follow. For the first time Derek notices that his nails are painted red little flecks of gold glitter in it, and he swallows hard as he watches Stiles bring his other hand to cup himself through his boxers, biting down on his bottom lips as he moans softly and finally slides his hand under the waistband to wrap his fingers around his co-

“Wake up, little brother!”

Derek jolts up in bed just in time for Laura to jump on top of him, grinning widely down at him when he grunts and tries to push her off. When that doesn’t happen, he merely props one knee up in the hopes to hide his hard on. Even though he’s quickly getting softer and softer as Laura stares at him like she knows something he doesn’t.

“What do you want?” he huffs, throwing an arm over his face so he doesn’t have to deal with her.

“I came to wake you up from your nap,” Laura asks, poking him in the chest.

“Why?”

“Because it’s already seven-thirty and you promised Stiles you’d meet him at his apartment in half an hour.”

“Fuck,” Derek curses and moves, only to get his feet tangled on the sheets and fall off the bed.

“Smooth, Derek,” Laura laughs at him before getting off the bed and extending a hand to help him up. “Go take a shower while I pick up something ridiculously tight for you to wear tonight.”

Derek opens his mouth to argue, but decides against it. Laura is already opening drawers and throwing clothes on the bed and making an absolute _mess_ out of everything.

He takes a quick shower and tries not to think about his dream, not when he can still hear Laura in the next room. He knows better than to masturbate when she can just burst into the room with no warning whatsoever, even when her disgust at seeing him naked is probably more trouble than it’s worth. All so she can see him yelp and flail and generally embarrass himself.

When Derek steps out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, Laura looks back at him from where she’s going through his t-shirt drawer to throw something red at his face and say, “Put that on.”

Derek looks at the crumpled fabric between his hands and, “You picked my underwear for me.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“What I think is that you’re hopeless,” Laura huffs. “Do you have any idea how many varying shades of gray shirts you have? Or shirts with paint stains on it?”

“A lot?” Derek asks, because he doesn’t really know nor cares. “Considering that’s where I keep my work and painting clothes?”

Laura glances back at him and narrows her eyes, “Put your boxers on and come help me.”

Derek looks back at the ground, trying to hide his smile, before stepping into the red boxers and letting his towel drop.

“Try the drawer on the left,” Derek tells her, grabbing a pair of tight dark blue jeans set on the bed. “Are these the pants I’m wearing?”

“If by these you mean the dark blue ones on the bed than yes,” Laura says, before throwing her arms up in triumph as she finds what she’s looking for. “Here, this one.”

Derek finishes buttoning his jeans and takes the shirt from Laura. It’s a maroon colored Henley that they both know it’s a tight fit on him, so he just raises his eyebrows at Laura and waits for an explanation.

“You look good in it,” she shrugs.

“Laura,” Derek sighs.

“Oh, shut up,” Laura snaps. “We both know you’re attracted to Stiles and actually enjoy spending time with him, if this past week since you’ve met and started hanging out is any indication, so don’t start pretending otherwise. You’ve actually _smiled_ and made _jokes_ and looked _happy_ while you were with him, Derek. You accepted to be his _makeup artist_ , for fuck’s sake.”

“You made me do it,” Derek mumbles, putting the shirt on and smoothing it down his stomach.

He tries not to think about what Laura is saying, mostly because he doesn’t want to admit that she’s right. 

Ever since the show on Saturday, they’ve been spending more and more time together. First, Stiles would just randomly show up at the garage around lunch with bags and bags of take out, saying that he had to make sure his favorite mechanics were being well fed. Then he started knocking on Laura’s door and demand Derek ate whatever new brownie recipe he was trying out and tell him if it tasted okay. And finally Derek’s favorite way of spending time with Stiles because it involved seeing him with barely any clothes on and all sweaty and out of breath: running together in the mornings. When Stiles saw him coming out of his apartment one morning in basketball shorts, a wifebeater, and running shoes, he asked Derek if it was okay for them to run together. Derek thinks he might have been embarrassed with the way he quickly nodded and said “Okay”, but forgot all about it when Stiles smiled at him and said “Cool.”

“I didn’t make you do anything,” Laura rolls her eyes. “Like you wouldn’t jump at the first chance to spend more time with him only to come home later and _pine_.”

“I’m not _pining_ ,” Derek glares at her.

“Sure you’re not,” Laura comes over and pats him on the cheek. “Now go put your boots on and get going. No matter how pretty you are, Stiles will still kill you if you show up late.”

Derek shakes his head at her before slipping his boots on and grabbing his keys. He’s just about to walk out the door when he comes back and kisses Laura on the forehead, “Thanks, sis.”

He closes the front door just as Laura screams, “Good luck!”

Stiles answers the door a second after Derek knocks on it, looking flustered.

“Thank fuck you’re here,” he says, grabbing the front of Derek’s Henley and pulling him inside. “I need your help.”

“Okay,” Derek says, eyes glued to Stiles’ hand still holding his shirt in a tight grip.

“I don’t know what to wear,” Stiles whines as he leads them to his bedroom where a pile of dresses are strewn across the bed.

“Do you already know what you’re performing tonight?”

“Of course I know,” Stiles snaps, sounding offended. “I don’t just spring this shit out of my ass, Derek.”

Derek looks back at him a little bit wide-eyed, eyebrows raised.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m just stressed.”

“It’s okay,” Derek says, placing a hand over Stiles’ shoulder and squeezing it. “Just explain to me what you’re doing.”

“Okay,” Stiles takes a deep breath. “Lydia got a break from ruling the world and decided to come back home god knows _why_. Probably because she missed me too much, not that she’ll ever admit to it, nope. She’s lucky I love her to death. But she’s going to be at the show tonight, so everything needs to be perfect, Derek. _Perfect_. I can’t do anything less than that when she’s here to see me, so please, _help._ ”

Derek blinks at him for a few seconds before swallowing around the lump in his throat at Stiles saying he _loves_ this Lydia person. Of course he would have someone. Stiles is all spark and quick wit and ridiculously gorgeous eyes and of fucking course someone would have noticed that before Derek came along.

“I’ll try my best,” Derek clears his throat before adding, “But I still don’t know why you and Laura think I’d be good at any of this.”

“Thanks for that comforting thought,” Stiles snorts.

“You’re welcome,” Derek rolls his eyes at him. “Now, the dresses on the bed are…”

“Options,” Stiles spreads his arms gesturing to the pile of clothes before letting them drop limply by his side. “All options.”

“Okay,” Derek nods and starts to go through the dresses one by one. “Do you have anything you know you’re gonna wear tonight?”

“Only my wig?” Stiles offers a little helplessly. “I swear I’m not this much of a disaster, it’s just that…”

“Lydia?” Derek asks him softly.

“Lydia,” Stiles sighs.

“What color is your wig?” Derek asks. “And what length?”

“Oh,” Stiles jumps up a little. “Let me go get it.”

He disappears through a door Derek thinks it leads to the bathroom and comes back a few seconds later with a long wavy strawberry blonde [wig](http://www.wigstars.com/extra-long-wigs) in hand.

“Here,” Stiles hands it to him. “I bought it a couple of months back. It looks a lot like Lydia’s natural hair, and hopefully she’ll get a kick out of it and not try to set it on fire when I’m not looking.”

Derek fights the urge to smooth the frown between Stiles’ brows with his thumb, settling for nodding again and turning his attention back to the dresses. He doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to be doing right now, so he places the wig on the corner of the bed and starts rummaging through Stiles’ clothes, looking for something that’ll catch his attention. When he finds the dress he’s beyond trying to make sense of what Stiles is expecting of him, just going for whatever he’ll like to see Stiles in.

It’s a light gold [dress](http://www.greatglam.com/pd-stage-left--light-gold.cfm) with a black mesh at the front and a slightly flared skirt, and Derek gets a little lost imagining the way Stiles would look wearing it. The way his shoulders would stretch the fabric, how the skirt would fall just under his ass, covering it.

“Derek?” Stiles’ voice snaps him out of it.

“I think,” Derek stops, clears his throat, and tries again. “I think this one is good.”

Stiles takes the dress from him and inspects it, pursing his lips forward and tilting his head to the side as he considers it.

“I think I might have the perfect shoes to go with this,” Stiles says before twirling around and going to his closet.

Derek takes a deep breath and sits on the one spot on the bed that isn’t covered in clothes. His mind goes back to what Stiles said before, that whoever this Lydia is, she’s going to be there tonight, watching him perform. With his luck, Derek will probably have to talk to her and be _nice_.

Stiles comes back holding a pair of light gold diamond platform [heels](http://www.shelikes.com/milly-light-gold-satin-diamante-platform-heels.html) in one hand and the dress in the other. He holds them both up in front of Derek and asks, “What do you think?”

Derek’s lips curl upward in a half smile as he says, “I think it looks perfect.”

Stiles laughs at him as he places the dress and wig inside a plastic zip cover. He hands it to Derek before gathering everything else he needs in a backpack before they head to the club. He has one of those big silver boxy makeup sets that he also hands it to Derek, who takes it with eyebrows raised.

“No judging my makeup collection,” Stiles warns him.

“I’m not really judging as much as I’m impressed,” Derek tells him honestly. “Laura must be jealous.”

Stiles smirks and winks at him, “She is.”

Stiles insists on taking the Jeep, claiming it has more room in the backseat for him to leave his things. Derek tries not to think about all the things the backseat has more room for, and gets pinched in the nipple when he tries to get the keys from Stiles so he can drive.

“Sorry, bright eyes,” Stiles says, not sounding sorry at all as he watches Derek rub his chest. “But only I can drive my baby.”

Danny is waiting for them by the back entrance when they get to the club, arching an eyebrow at Stiles in question when he spots Derek.

“Derek, this is Danny. He’s the lovely owner of this fine establishment where I’ll be performing tonight,” Stiles says with a flourish, making Danny snort and roll his eyes. “And Danny, this is Derek. He’s my… let’s go with executive assistant.”

“Executive assistant,” Danny says, glancing between both of them. “Right. Well, it was very nice to meet you, Derek, but we all better get going.”

With that Danny ushers them inside before locking himself away behind a door with the same whiteboard as the office’s door at the garage. Only this one says “Boy Wonder” instead of “Bossman Boyd & the Golden Twins.”

“What’s with you and the white boards?” Derek asks Stiles as they walk further into the club.

“It reminds us of the worst of times and how we prospered,” Stiles says seriously.

“You mean college?”

“Exactly.”

They step inside a dark room. Stiles flicks the light switch to show a row of dressing tables shoved against the wall, massive mirrors, chairs, and various free standing hangers. Derek leaves Stiles’ outfit in one of the hangers and puts the makeup box down on the second table.

“So,” Derek says, watching as Stiles places his backpack on a chair. “How do we do this?”

“How about a drink first?” Stiles asks, raising his eyebrows at Derek expectantly.

“But I’m on the clock,” Derek says flatly, watching in amusement as Stiles rolls his eyes.

“C’mon, I’m nervous. I need a drink before all of,” Stiles makes a wild gesture with his hands, “this starts.”

“Do you normally get nervous before a show?”

“Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.”

“Enlightening.”

Stiles lets out a small chuckle and glances at him. “I think I’m more nervous today because I have people to impress.”

Oh.

_Lydia_.

Derek nods at him and doesn’t say anything, turning his head when someone knocks on the dressing room door.

“Stiles?” Scott ducks his head in the door, waving at both of them. “Hey, Derek.”

“Hey, Scott,” Stiles waves at him, while Derek offers him a small nod.

“You all set for tonight?” Scott asks him, a goofy smile appearing on his face.

Stiles casually places his hands on his waist, raises an eyebrow, and says, “When is Foxy not all set, puppy?”

Scott’s faces scrunches up at that, and he says, “You know it freaks me out when you call me that.”

“Why do you think I do it?” Stiles asks, smiling widely.

“He’s evil,” Scott says to Derek, pointing a finger at Stiles.

“I’m Laura’s baby brother,” Derek shrugs. “I can handle evil.”

Stiles snorts out a laugh and tries to contain his smile by busying himself with opening his silver box and going through his makeup. Scott just shakes his head at them both and asks if they need anything.

“Drinks!” Stiles tells him, going for his backpack and getting his heels.

“Derek?” Scott glances at him.

“A beer is fine,” Derek says. “Thanks.”

“No problem, man,” Scott shakes his head, then tilts his chin in Stiles direction. “With that one, you’ll probably need all the alcohol you can get.”

Scott closes the door just in time to avoid getting hit in the face by a flying shoe.

“Can you pick that up for me?” Stiles asks, gesturing at the shoe.

“I’m not the one who threw it.”

“You’re the one who’s assisting me,” Stiles protests. “So assist.”

Derek sighs and goes to retrieve the heels, coming back to where Stiles is standing by one of the dressing tables. He lets the heels fall to the ground beside them before pulling a chair and sitting, and focuses on Stiles as he starts organizing lipsticks, eye shadows, blushes, and a million different things Derek has no idea about but probably should.

“You’re going to help me with the makeup,” Stiles tells him, setting a pair of false black lashes on the table. “Like what color of eye shadow and lipstick and whatnot I should wear. I can put it on by myself tonight so you can get an idea of how it all works. Okay, bright eyes?”

Derek looks up at him and says, “Okay, Foxy.”

“Great,” Stiles grins at him before sitting on a chair next to Derek.

“Where do we start?” Derek asks, watching Stiles pick up his backpack and rummaging through it.

“First…” Stiles trails off, humming a little at the back of his throat when he finds what he’s looking for. “You paint my nails.”

He hands a little bottle of red nail polish to Derek, who takes it and looks at it and gulps, remembering the dream he had just a while ago.

“Okay,” Derek nods, then asks, “Do you have gold glitter?”

Because if he’s going to do this, he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth. Even if he feels a little bit bad about using Stiles to fulfill his fantasies, and not really in the way he’d like to.

With Stiles knowing _all about it_ and _eagerly_ participating.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks, frowning.

“Your dress is gold,” Derek tries to explain. “It would be nice if you had gold in your nails too.”

“Oh,” Stiles blinks at him, jumping on his seat a little. “Like gold glittery flecks on top of it?”

“Yeah,” Derek says as Stiles starts to go through his backpack again and hands him another bottle.

“Like this?” Stiles asks, gesturing at the gold glitter nail polish in Derek’s hand.

“Like this,” Derek agrees, then says, “Give me your hand.”

Stiles extends one hand to Derek, who turns in his seat until they’re both facing each other. He takes Stiles’ hand in his, marveling at how long his fingers are, the skin around them pale,  how it would feel to have them against his skin, all over him, wrapped around him, inside of-

“Derek?”

Derek’s gaze snaps back to Stiles to find him staring at him and chewing on his bottom lip. Derek can feel his ears redden, and just as Stiles opens his mouth to say something he says, “I have no idea if I’m any good at this.”

Stiles snaps his mouth shut and looks down at their hands, tilting his head to the side as if considering what Derek just said, only to slowly glance back up and give Derek a soft smile.

“Laura knows better than to do that to me,” Stiles tells him with confidence. “Roping you into helping me if she taught you were a complete disaster would be motive enough for me to hunt her down and chop all her hair off.”

“She wouldn’t want that,” Derek mutters under his breath.

Stiles’ smile widens a fraction at that, and he squeezes Derek hand before saying, “So stop with the self-doubt and paint me already.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Derek deadpans, taking Stiles’ hand and placing it flat on his lap, fingers spread out. Derek momentarily regrets it, because that means Stiles’ fingers are really close to his dick, and, really, there’s only so much he can take before caving and doing something stupid.

Like sucking Stiles’ fingers into his mouth.

He barely notices Stiles leaning a bit forward, watching as Derek starts covering his nails in bright red. Derek gets lost in the painting, his shoulders relaxing as he focuses all of his attention on it, and when he glances up he almost knocks the bottle over.

Stiles is leaning closer to him, into his space. His lips are parted and his cheeks a little flushed, and he’s staring.

At Derek.

Who stares right back.

Until he says, “Did I do something wrong?”

And that’s stupid because he knows he didn’t make a mistake. Derek just needs to distract Stiles from whatever is running through his head right now, especially when he’s supposed to be performing tonight, to _Lydia_.

“No,” Stiles breathes out. “You’re doing perfect, bright eyes. Just perfect.”

Derek stares at him wide-eyed as Stiles moves forward, their noses brushing together and his breath ghosting over Derek’s lips as he angles his head to the side to seal their lips together.

“Here are your drinks!”

Stiles and Derek pull back so fast that the nail polish bottle falls to the ground, splattering red all over the place.

“Fuck,” Stiles curses as he goes for his heels, picking them up and turning them in his hands as he makes sure they’re not stained.

“Sorry,” Derek grimaces, staring at his ruined boots.

Not that he cares that much.

Not when Stiles was about to _kiss_ him.

And then Scott interrupted.

Derek looks back in the direction of the door to find Scott staring at both of them, narrowing his eyes when their gaze meets.

“It’s okay, Derek,” Stiles says, and when they both turn to him Derek is surprised to find him glaring at Scott. “Scott should learn how to knock.”

Scott stares at Stiles some more and raises an eyebrow, and Derek knows they’re having a conversation he’s not privy to about what Scott just interrupted. He and Laura are good at communicating without really saying anything, and he figures the same goes for them as Stiles huffs and Scott rolls his eyes and they smile at each other.

“You said you had drinks?” Stiles remembers when Scott makes no move to either get out or give them their drinks.

“Yes, I did,” Scott nods, walking into the room and placing two beer bottles on top of the dresser along with Stiles’ makeup.

“Lydia’s already here?” Stiles asks.

Derek’s stomach churns at her name, and then he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. Stiles just tried to kiss him. Why would he do that when he had someone already?

“No,” Scott says. “She’s coming by later with Allison.”

“Then how did you get here?”

“Isaac,” Scott says, rubbing the back of his neck and smiling.

Stiles shakes his head at him. “I don’t know why I ask,” he says, and then waves a hand in the direction of the door. “Now get out. Foxy needs to get ready.”

“Have a great show, Foxy,” Scott winks at him, then turns to Derek. “Good luck, dude.”

Derek thanks him and waits until he’s out the door before turning to Stiles. He looks at the mess on the floor between them and sighs.

“We have to clean this up,” Derek says, running a hand through his hair.

“But my nails are wet,” Stiles pouts.

Derek glares at him.

“We don’t want to mess up my nails, Derek.”

Derek continues to glare at him.

“Please,” Stiles blinks his big golden innocent eyes at him.

“Fine,” Derek says.

He tries to ignore the voice inside his head that sound suspiciously like Laura when it says _whipped_.

They move on to makeup after Derek cleans the floor, Stiles chattering excited and explaining to Derek what everything he laid out on the table is and what kinds of brushes he should use for different things.

When he’s done, Stiles clasps his hands together and says, “Alright, have your way with me.”

“What?” Derek asks him with a strangled voice.

He ignores the way Stiles’ eyes lit up with amusement, especially because he knows he must be blushing right now.

“I know I said I was going to do it by myself, but I changed my mind,” Stiles tells him, not mentioning Derek’s reaction to his choice of words.

“Are you sure?” 

And Derek is nervous now, because as much as Laura used to make him do her makeup when they were growing up, this is new territory for him here. And because this is _Stiles_ , Derek doesn’t want to fuck it up.

“Do your worst,” Stiles grins up at him, all white teeth and pink lips and mirth.

It doesn’t take as long as Derek thought it would to get Stiles’ ready. He starts with the basics of what Stiles showed him, with foundation and concealer, before moving to his eyes. Stiles gave him free reign to do whatever he thinks is best, so he decides to just apply the false lashes, add a little bit of mascara, and eyeliner and call it quits.

He feels weird doing this, like his hands are too big. He also makes a mental note to thank Laura for all the times she wanted to play make over and bossed him into learning how to line someone’s eyes without shaking his hand too much.

Derek tries to control his breathing as he moves on to Stiles’ lips. Staring over to the lipstick section Stiles organized on top of the table, Derek considers his options. He doesn’t want to draw that much attention to Stiles’ lips, mostly because he doesn’t want other people looking at them, so he settles for doing something soft and subtle just as his eyes. Picking up a tube of light pink chapstick, he starts applying it across Stiles’ top lip, ignoring the faint smell of bubblegum coming from it and how they make Stiles’ lips shiny.

When he figures there’s nothing else he can do he taps Stiles lightly on the nose and says, “All done.”

Stiles smacks his lips together and turns to the mirror, and Derek watches him as he asses if Derek’s job as a makeup artist was satisfactory or if Derek made him look like a clown. His heart might skip a beat when he sees Stiles’ pink lips stretching in a wide smile and his eyes lit up as he looks at Derek’s reflection in the mirror.

“Is it good?” Derek asks, feeling even more nervous all of a sudden.

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles laughs a little, eyes crinkling in the corner. “This is great, Derek.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Stiles says excitedly. “I’m kinda glad Laura decided to be a dick about all of this and made you take her place.”

“Don’t tell her that,” Derek pleads, because he knows nothing good will come out of Stiles thinking Derek is better at this than Laura.

Stiles stands up and stops in front of Derek, patting his cheek and saying, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

He moves towards the hanger where his dress and wig are, pulling his shirt over his head and unbuckling his belt in the process.

“I…,” Derek trails off as he sees Stiles’ pants drop to the ground, and quickly averts his eyes when Stiles turns to look at him.

He can practically _hear_ the smug on Stiles’ voice when he says, “If we’re going to do this, you’re gonna have to get used to me walking around in my underwear. It’s part of the job.”

Derek drags his eyes up to Stiles, who’s wearing nothing but his boxers on. If Stiles is going to be an asshole about this, then he can be one too. So he doesn’t give Stiles the satisfaction of knowing he’s affected when he just smirks and says, “Do you need help getting it on?”

His smirk widens when Stiles gapes at him, his cheeks turning a little red, and splutters, “What?”

“Do you need help getting on your dress?” Derek orders it better. “Or the wig?”

Stiles snaps his mouth shut and purses his lips together, and Derek tries his best not to break down and laugh at him.

“No,” Stiles says, still pouting. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Derek says, flopping down on a chair. “That’s what I’m here for.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, and then Stiles huffs and turns back to his costume. Derek keeps his gaze on him as Stiles slips on the dress, silently congratulating himself on how good Stiles looks in it, and when Stiles twirls around so he can face the mirror and see how he looks he can’t help but let out a pleased chuckle.

Stiles’ gaze zeros on him, “Feeling proud of yourself?”

“Kind of,” Derek shrugs.

Stiles rolls his eyes at him and reaches for his wig, asking for Derek’s help to get it just right. Derek’s fingers graze the back of his neck when he lets go, and he doesn’t miss the way Stiles’ shivers at the sensation. Stiles slips on his light gold heels, and just like that he’s ready.

As they’re walking out of the dressing room Stiles lays a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“You’ll stay to watch the show, right?”

Even though Derek’s dreading having to watch Stiles perform for someone, there’s no way he’s going to miss this.

“Of course I will,” Derek reassures him. “I have to see if my skills paid off.”

Stiles sticks his tongue out at him and playfully shoves him on the shoulder.

“Go find your asshole sister and give her a big kiss for me.”

Derek scrunches up his face at the kiss part and waves at Stiles before walking into the club. He finds Laura at the left corner of the stage and joins her, throwing an arm across her shoulder and pretending to pull her into a headlock.

“Get off me, you jerk,” Laura elbows him in the stomach, laughing.

“Stiles told me to give you a big kiss for him,” Derek says, making kissing noise at her until she manages to shove a hand in his face and push him off.

“When are you going to thank me for that, by the way?” Laura asks, running her fingers through her messed up hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Derek says flatly, looking up at the stage and seeing Danny.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Danny says into the mike, smiling. “I give you Miss Foxy Red!”

Derek watches wordlessly as Stiles rushes through the stage. Laura looks from Stiles back to Derek and gives her brother a huge smile and thumbs up, and Derek feels strangely proud of having Laura approve of his work. He sees Stiles take the mike from Danny and address the cheering audience, his lips tilted up in a smirk.

“I’d like to dedicate this one to the most important woman in my life,” Stiles starts, and Derek’s heart sinks. “She’s the one who encouraged me to do this, and she took some time from her busy schedule of terrorizing people and being perfect to come watch the show tonight. So, Lyds, this is for you.”

The stage lights go out as the music starts. Laura is already dancing by Derek’s side, but he can’t really appreciate it. His eyes are glued to the person Stiles had been talking to when he gave his little speech. She’s about five foot three with long wavy strawberry blond hair, just like Stiles’ wig, and she’s looking up at the stage with a little smile on her face.

Derek feels a little bit sick.

It’s when Stiles starts singing that _there are only two types of people in the world_ that Derek sees her smile widen, her perfectly white teeth showing around full plump lips. Derek can’t deny that she’s beautiful, in the way that a tiger is beautiful, but still. It doesn’t surprise him that Stiles chose her.

_The ones that_[ _entertain_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVhJ_A8XUgc) _and the ones that observe_ and Derek’s gaze goes back to the stage to see that Stiles somehow got a hold of a black top hat, and that it’s slowly making his way down his body.

_Well, baby, I’m a put-on-a-show kind of girl_ and Derek hears Laura yelling at his side that “Damn right!” he is. And he can’t help but full heartedly agree. Because Stiles looks beautiful up there, with his longs toned legs in full display, the light fabric of his dress clinging to his shoulders and back, the short skirt barely covering his ass and he dances.

Derek doesn’t really pay attention to the rest of the show, not when Stiles keeps his eyes locked with Lydia’s. When he’s done, he dashes off the stage and walks towards her, pulling her into a hug and kissing her on the cheek.

Laura takes him by the hand and starts dragging them to where they’re standing, and Derek notices that Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Scott and a girl he doesn’t recognize are also there. He’s just about to make up an excuse about having to go to the bathroom when Stiles kisses her again and saunters off back to the dressing room.

Boyd spots them first and gives Derek a nod, hugging Laura when she gets closer to him. Erica gives him a sly smile and a peck on the cheek before hugging Laura as well. Isaac offers him a fist to bump, and when Derek just stares at it blankly he shrugs and offers him a smile, and then he’s picking Laura up and off the ground and swinging her from side to side. Scott offers his hand in a shake, which Derek takes it, not missing the way Scott squeezes his hand way too tight before letting it go in order to smile warmly at Laura. Laura kisses both Lydia and the girl he doesn’t know, but figures she’s Scott’s girlfriend from the way he snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her closer to him, and turns to him.

“Girls, this is my baby brother, Derek,” Laura gestures to him. “Baby bro, these are Lydia Martin and Allison Argent.”

_Argent._

Derek’s entire body goes numb.

He never thought he’d hear that name again, not after her, not after what she did. He clenches his hands into fists, his short nails digging in his palm, and tries to take a deep breath. Looking at Allison, with her bouncy curls and sweet smile and dimples, all he can think about is _her_ and he feels sick to his stomach.

“Derek?”

He feels Laura’s hand in his arm, and he takes his gaze from Allison to look down at his sister’s worried face.

“Sorry,” Derek says, and he has to clear his throat before he can speak again. “She just… reminds me of someone.”

“Not someone good, I take it?” Allison asks, her soft and kind.

Derek kind of wants to cry.

“No,” he shakes his head.

Laura is still staring at him with her brows furrowed, and he cuts her with a glare when she opens her mouth to say something. He looks around him to see Scott staring at him like he’s desperately trying to figure something out, while Allison smiles warmly at him. Isaac tilts his head to the side, as if he’s considering something, Erica narrowing her eyes at him and Derek knows she’ll expect him to tell her what the fuck just happened. Boyd stares at him intently, not saying anything, and Lydia is eyeing him like she knows every little thing Derek has to hide.

He doesn’t like it.

“You’re Derek,” she says, her tone flat. “Stiles’ Derek.”

“You’re Lydia,” and Derek doesn’t want acknowledge the way his stomach flips at hearing her say he’s Stiles’, mostly because Stiles is not his. “Stiles’ Lydia.”

She blinks at him before her lips twitch in a smile. Derek can tell she’s looking at him differently, almost appraisingly, and he’s not sure what to make of that.

Laura looks like she wants to say something again, and Derek pinches her on the thigh, making her yelp.

Lydia stares at the interaction with newfound amusement, saying, “This is going to be much more entertaining than I originally thought.”

“What is?” Scott looks at her quizzically.

Lydia doesn’t offer him any explanations, just pats him on top of his head and looks down at her nails, ignoring everyone around her.

Derek is not at all impressed by her.

He’s still feeling kind of sick when Stiles comes back to their little group wearing street clothes and the biggest smile on his face. He hugs Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Scott, Allison and Laura, picking Lydia up when he gets to her and twirling her around until she smacks him in the back of the head and tells him to put her down.

It’s when he gets to Derek that his eyes light up and his smile gets bigger.

He throws his arms around Derek’s shoulder and presses his face against Derek’s neck, placing a kiss just under his ear before pulling back and turning to face their friends.

It kinds of makes him feel a little bit better.

And Derek tries not to fell smug when Stiles keeps an arm around him, but by the way Laura is looking at him he thinks he’s not being too subtle about it.

“Did Laura introduce you to everybody?” Stiles asks him.

“I did,” Laura says. “And Danny told us he met Derek with you earlier.”

Derek doesn’t like the way Laura is looking at him right now. Like she’s _proud_.

“Just say it,” Derek sighs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Laura sniffs.

“Laur-”

“You’re making friends and _socializing_ ,” Laura says, pinching him in the cheeks. “I’m so _proud_ of you.”

He gets a hand on her face and pushes her away.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” she says, while everybody laughs at them.

“He hasn’t met everyone,” Lydia says, staring pointedly at Laura.

“Oh, right,” Laura says, raising her eyebrows. “We forgot Jackson.”

“I wonder why,” Scott and Stiles say at the same time, snickering at each other.

“Who’s Jackson?” he asks, glancing from Stiles to Scott.

“My husband,” Lydia says to him, eyes glinting.

Derek’s pretty sure he forgot how to breathe.

Because Lydia is _married_.

She’s married to a guy named Jackson that’s most definitely not Stiles and he could just about curl up on the floor in relief.

“He’s a douche,” Stiles says, pouting. “It’s your luck that he treats you right, otherwise I’d be forced to kick his ass.”

Derek hears Erica snort and Boyd hide his amused smile in Erica’s hair.

“What?” Stiles says, indignantly. “I could!”

“Totally, dude,” Scott nods at him, earnings laughs from the rest of them.

“You all suck,” Stiles pouts.

Derek brings his hand up to the back of Stiles’ neck, squeezing a little.

Stiles turns his face to him and leans closer, “Dance with me, bright eyes.”

“I don’t dance,” Derek says, his lips curving up.

Stiles lets his head drop against Derek’s shoulder as he laughs before he pulls back to smile warmly at Derek, “With me you do.”

* * *

It’s already dark when Derek finishes unpacking all his things, setting them up in Laura’s guest bedroom. The whole process probably would have gone a whole lot faster if his sister actually helped, but as soon as she saw him going through his boxes she promptly walked out of the apartment and told him she wouldn’t be coming back until later.

Well, it was later.

And she still wasn’t home.

Derek grabs his phone from his pocket and sends Laura a quick message, asking her where she is.

> _At Foxy’s._

He can hear laughter as he gets closer to Stiles’ door, and raises an eyebrow when the door is wrenched open and Laura stares back at him.

“Hello, Derek,” she greets him, holding a half empty bottle of Jack in her hand.

“What did you do,” Derek says flatly, because his fucking _life_.

“I didn’t do anything,” Laura tells him, choking on laughter. “But Stiles got himself drunk and I have a date.”

Derek sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, “What do you expect me to do?”

“Just make sure he eats something,” Laura says, pushing past him and into the hallway. “And don’t let him dance on top of the furniture.”

Derek’s eyes follow her as she walks back into their apartment, slamming the door closed. When he turns his head back, it’s to find Stiles standing right in front of him, his cheeks red.

“You’re not Laura,” Stiles says, swaying lightly.

“No, I’m not,” Derek agrees, shaking his head.

“You’re prettier than her, though,” Stiles says, glassy eyes looking back at Derek.

Derek blinks at him and tries not to smile, making his way inside the apartment and closing the door. He directs Stiles back to the living room with a hand on his elbow, pushing him down on the couch before sitting by his side.

He lets a little sound of surprise when Stiles moves closer and drapes himself half on top of him. Not that he makes any moves to push Stiles off.

“Hello,” Stiles blinks owlish at him from where his head is resting against Derek’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Derek says quietly.

They’ve been a lot more touchy-feely since Derek found out Lydia was just one of Stiles’ best friend three days ago. Stiles told him on their obligatory Friday morning breakfast that he had been in love with her for half of his life, but when he got into college he realized that he didn’t really _want_ Lydia, but that he wanted to _be_ Lydia. She helped him figure out who Foxy Red was, and encouraged him to start performing.

Derek probably should thank her for that.

Not that he will.

“I’m hungry,” Stiles announces, straightening back up a little bit from where he’s slouched against Derek.

“Pizza?”

“Pepperoni,” Stiles nods.

Derek gets up to grab the landline and call for a pizza, passing by the kitchen and grabbing a water bottle before going back to Stiles. As soon as he’s sitting on the couch again Stiles moves closer until their sides are glued together, and stares at him with a confused expression on his face.

“Laura stole my alcohol,” Stiles says.

“She did,” Derek nods, handing Stiles the bottle. “Drink this.”

Stiles takes it and takes a sip, frowning, “Laura stole my alcohol.”

He sounds kind of angry, and Derek bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling.

“Is there a reason why you were drinking?” Derek asks, bringing his hand to the back on Stiles’ neck.

Stiles sighs and leans back into Derek’s touch.

“Next week would be my mom’s birthday,” Stiles says quietly.

Derek’s body tenses as that ‘would be’ and he starts rubbing his thumb in small circles against Stiles’ neck.

“Do you want me to get your bottle back?” Derek asks him, just as quietly.

Stiles takes a second or two to think before shaking his head. “No, it’s okay.”

“Does Laura know?”

Derek thinks she doesn’t, because there’s no way she would have left Stiles like this, but he still has to make sure.

“No one knows,” Stiles mumbles, moving around so he can press his face against Derek’s neck. “They only know the anniversary of her death.”

Derek rubs his cheek against Stiles’ forehead, “How long?”

“I was eleven,” Stiles says. “Cancer.”

Derek doesn’t say that he’s sorry. He hates it whenever people find out about his family and give him pitying looks, telling him how sorry they are for his loss, like they could relate to what he went through. Most people don’t realize that everyone experiences loss differently.

“Drink more of your water,” is what Derek says instead, and he thinks it was the right move when Stiles kisses him on the neck before leaning back up and going for his water bottle.

“I miss her,” Stiles says after a while of them sitting in silence.

“I know,” Derek says.

Stiles smiles sadly at him and brings a hand up to trace the skin under Derek’s right eye.

“You’re eyes are pretty.”

“Prettier than Laura’s?” Derek asks, and he can’t believe he’s actually batting his eyelashes at Stiles in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He’s successful when Stiles giggles at him, his hand coming down to cup Derek’s jaw.

“Definitely,” Stiles nods, his expression dropping as he stares at Derek, closes his eyes and leans closer.

There’s nothing Derek wants more than to just say fuck it and do this - to press their lips together and lick his way into Stiles’ mouth and kiss him until they can’t breathe anymore -, but he’s not about to let it happen when Stiles has had a lot to drink. He’s made a point not to sleep with anyone unless they’re both sober and in their right minds, at least not since he left Beacon Hills when he was eighteen.

And then there’s Kate.

Derek knows that wherever he does with Stiles will mean more to him than just a quick fuck. He’s sure not if he’s able to handle that yet, the type of commitment that would bring, not after how his last relationship ended.

As he places his hand flat on Stiles’ chest and pushes him back a fraction, he hates himself a little. Especially when Stiles opens his eyes and blinks at him in disappointment, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, trying to move as far away from Derek as he can while still sitting on the couch.

Derek grabs him by the wrist and stops him, shaking his head.

“It’s okay,” Derek says softly. “Just… not when you’re drunk, okay?”

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times before he says, “Does this mean that when I’m sober I get to kiss you?”

“It means that when you’re sober we’ll talk, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles nods in agreement. “I should probably drink some more water then. And eat something.”

“The pizza will be here in a few-”

Derek gets interrupted by the doorbell ringing, and Stiles gets up from the couch and goes with him to answer the door.

They pay for the pizza - Stiles making grabby hands at the delivery man when he doesn’t let go of the box fast enough -, and spend the rest of the night eating and talking while an old episode of Law & Order plays on the tv.

Derek finds that he’s enjoying himself, even more so when he finds Stiles completely passed out with his head resting against Derek’s shoulder.

“Stiles,” Derek calls, shaking his knee gently. “Get up.”

Stiles tries to bat his hand away and burrows further into the crook between Derek’s neck and shoulder.

“C’mon, Foxy,” Derek tries again. “We need to get you to bed.”

“Don’t wanna,” Stiles mumbles. “’M comfy.”

Derek sighs and smiles a little before poking Stiles on the ribs, making him yelp. He takes the opportunity to get up from the couch and stand in front of Stiles, who’s rubbing his side.

“You’re mean.”

“C’mon,” Derek says, taking him by the hand. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Stiles grunts and huffs a little, but doesn’t protest when Derek starts walking them towards his bedroom. He directs Stiles to the bed and watches in amusement as Stiles flops down on the bed and sighs, wiggling a little until he finds a comfortable position, and promptly falls back asleep. Derek sighs and stares at him for a little while, grateful that Stiles is already wearing sweatpants and a loose shirt so he doesn’t have to undress him.

While Stiles is asleep he goes back to the kitchen and fills a glass of water, leaving it by Stiles’ nightstand with two white pills so he can drink it first thing in the morning. He also makes sure to wash the dishes and clean the living room up before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Laura’s still not back when he gets home, and he finds himself picking up one of his sketch books and laying down on his bed. He grabs a pen from his nightstand and makes quick work of drawing the curves of Stiles’ back and ass, the exposed skin of his neck and arms, the way his leg hitched up on the mattress, how he clutched one of his pillows tightly to his side. He traces the lines of Stiles’ face, his upturned nose and parted lips, his lashes resting against his cheek and his hair sticking up everywhere.

When he’s done, he runs his fingers lightly over the drawing, closes the book back up, and, for the first time in a long time, goes to sleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

Stiles’ door wrenches open just as Derek is about to get into his apartment, and they both stare at each other for a minute without saying or doing anything until Stiles purses his lips and says, “Go take a shower and wash the grease out of you before coming back here.”

“Why?” Derek narrows his eyes at him.

“Because I have a surprise,” Stiles says. “A surprise Laura’s not meant to eat but that she definitely will if I just leave it in your kitchen.”

Derek’s eyebrows rise in interest at that, because if there’s one thing Stiles is good at is cooking.

“Got you attention, didn’t I?” Stiles smirks smugly at him, before waving his head in front of him. “Now go.”

Derek rolls his eyes at him and opens the door to his apartment just as Stiles’ closes shut. Laura greets him as soon as he steps into the living room, and he drops a kiss to her forehead before he heads to his room to take a shower.

It’s not fifteen minutes later when Stiles grabs him by the wrist and leads him inside his apartment and into the kitchen. There are about three different bowls and as many spoons cluttering the sink, and on top of the counter sits a tray with, by the smell, Derek figures are Nutella cupcakes.

Derek raises an eyebrow in question when Stiles just looks expectantly from the tray and back to him, his lips pursed.

“These are apology cupcakes,” Stiles announces, gesturing to the tray.

“Apology cupcakes.”

“For my behavior last night.”

“For using me as your personal pillow, you mean,” Derek says, and then adds, “And for stealing the last pizza slice. While I was _eating it_.”

Stiles huffs and blushes a little, and Derek can’t help but smirk at him.

“You’re enjoying this,” Stiles narrows his eyes at him when he reaches a hand to grab a cupcake.

Derek just shrugs and takes a bite, moaning a little when the chocolate melts in his mouth.

Stiles watches him as he eats, biting down on his lower lip as he keeps his gaze fixed on Derek’s mouth. Derek’s stomach flips a little, because now he knows where this is going. He’s not sure he’s ready for it, but he told Stiles yesterday that they’d talk when he was sober, and apparently now is the time.

Derek tilts his head in the direction of the living room, “C’mon.”

This time Derek takes one of the armchairs while Stiles sits Indian style on the couch. They stare at each other for a few minutes before Stiles licks his lips and says, “So.”

Derek snorts a little, shaking his head fondly at Stiles. He sobers up quickly enough, though.

“You tried to kiss me last night,” he says, eyes glued to Stiles.

“Yep,” Stiles says, nodding. “And you said not to do that while I was drunk. And that we’d talk later. Now is later.”

Derek regards him for a few seconds, before taking a deep and saying, “There are things you don’t know about me, and that I’m not ready to tell you.”

Stiles presses his lips together, “Okay.”

“I’m not ready for a relationship either,” Derek says, and at the disappointed look on Stiles’ face he adds, “but I’d like to see where this _thing_ between us goes.”

Stiles’ eyes glint at that and he leans forward so he can rest on of his hands on top of Derek’s knee, smiling a little.

“I’d like that to,” Stiles agrees. “And we can takes this as slow or as fast as you’re comfortable with.”

“I’m probably going to fuck up a lot,” Derek tells him. “Because of said things I’m not ready to tell you yet.”

“Said things that made you leave when you were a kid?” Stiles asks, and blanches when he sees the look on Derek’s face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that. It’s none of my business. You don’t have to tell me.”

Derek takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose before looking down at Stiles’ hand still on his knee.

“It has to do with that,” Derek swallows hard. “But I’m not. I can’t.”

“It’s okay, bright eyes,” Stiles says softly. “You don’t have to talk about it. Forget I even asked.”

“You should know, though,” Derek says. “I’m just…”

“Not ready to tell me yet,” Stiles fills in.

“No,” Derek offers him a sad smile in return.

“Okay,” Stiles says, squeezing his knee.

“Thanks,” Derek says, tracing his fingers over the back of Stiles’ hand.

“So,” Stiles drawls after a few minutes pass.

“Yes?” Derek raises an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sober now,” Stiles points out.

Derek’s lips curl up in a smirk, “Yes, you are.”

“So that means I can kiss you,” Stiles says, licking his lips.

“I guess,” Derek shrugs, feeling his heart rate spike up.

Stiles makes a noise at the back of his throat at that, “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Derek whispers, and he’s smiling when Stiles brings a hand up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

It’s just a press of lips at first, soft and barely there, and Stiles pulls back to stare at Derek before leaning back into him. This time Stiles’ bites down on Derek’s lower lip, sucking it into his mouth a little before tracing his tongue over it and past the seam of Derek’s lips, licking into Derek’s mouth. Derek opens up easily for him, letting Stiles’ control the kiss, too busy thinking about how fucking _good_ he tastes.

When they pull back, Stiles’ lips are red and swollen and Derek can’t help but lean in again and peck him once, twice, three times before finally letting him go. Stiles is beaming at him, eyes glinting in excitement and happiness, and Derek shivers a little when he drops his head against Derek’s shoulder and kisses him in the neck.

“Yay,” he whispers against the skin of Derek’s throat before his shoulders start shaking with laughter.

Derek sighs and cups the back of his head with a hand, running his fingers through Stiles’ hair.

“Yay?” Derek asks him, incredulous. “Really?”

“Oh, shut up,” Stiles says when he pulls back.

And when he tilts his head to the side to kiss him again, all Derek can do is comply.


	3. Act Three: Because the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold on to your panties because Stiles lost his :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has a little tiny very brief mention of a panic attack. it's nothing descriptive, so that's why i didn't add it to the tags (which were updated btw!), but i thought i'd let everyone know.

It’s been three weeks since Stiles’ apology cupcakes, and one week since all of their friends figured out they decided to give their relationship a try because Laura _walked in on them_.

Stiles invited Derek for dinner last Thursday, saying he wanted to cook for him before they headed out to Jungle.

“Just because we decided to see how things go doesn’t mean I don’t get to woo you anyways,” Stiles smiles sweetly at him, pecking him lightly on the lips.

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek tells him.

“Awesome, you mean.”

“Ludicrous.”

“Amazing.”

“You’re a dork,” Derek says fondly, coming up behind Stiles and placing his hands on Stiles’ hips.

“You like me,” Stiles says, wiggling his ass back into Derek’s crotch.

Derek stops cold at that and Stiles immediately pulls back, Derek’s hands falling from his hips.

“Sorry,” he says, his entire body going tense.

Derek sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Stiles.”

“It’s okay, dude,” but it’s not because he’s still not looking at Derek.

“Look at me,” Derek says, and then places his hand on Stiles’ elbow and tugs him a little when he doesn’t move. “Turn around and look at me.”

Stiles huffs and lets Derek pull him by the elbow until they’re face to face, but he’s still staring at his feet.

“Stiles,” Derek says, cupping his face between his hands.

“It’s okay,” Stiles shrugs. “I get it.”

“No, you don’t,” Derek lets out a humorless laugh. “You really don’t.”

“Is this part of the thing you can’t tell me yet?” Stiles asks, finally looking at him.

“Kind of,” Derek admits, and he doesn’t know what his face must be doing right now, but it’s enough to make Stiles go pale.

Stiles brings one of his hands up as if to touch Derek, but lets it drop instead.

“Did someone hurt you?” Stiles asks, voice small.

Derek shakes his head, “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

Stiles takes a shuddering breath and says, “I won’t try anything again.”

Derek shakes his head again, because that’s not it.

“I need to know this is more than just sex to you,” Derek tells him honestly.

Stiles looks at him before setting his jaw and stepping back, and Derek’s stomach drops.

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles asks him, voice raised. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Stiles-”

“Shut up,” Stiles narrows his eyes at him. “I _like_ you, okay? Not just because I want to sleep with you, because, trust me, I _do_ , but because of all these other things. You run with me in the mornings, and you make fun of Laura’s clothes before she heads out on a date just because you’re her little brother and you think that’s your job. You watch old reruns of Law & Order with me and eat all the olives on the pizza because you know I don’t like them and you always make sure I sleep on my bed instead of the couch so I won’t fuck up my back.”

Stiles is breathing a little hard by now, his cheeks red as he flails wildly and keeps talking.

“You help me dress up as a fucking woman three nights a week, for fuck’s sake,” Stiles says. “You choose my _clothes_. You do my fucking _makeup_. And never, not even once, you made a comment about any of it. You just came in and accepted it like it was the most normal thing in the entire world. And you ask me if this is all about sex to me? Because it isn’t, Derek, it so isn’t. It’s so far from it that I haven’t even slept with anyone since I opened Laura’s door over a month ago and found you standing at the door with a cardboard box called ‘Paint Shit’.”

Derek’s blinking stupidly at him, mouth parted, and he’s so stunned he doesn’t even try to duck when Stiles throws a carrot at him.

“I like you, okay?” Stiles sighs. “I know you wanted to take things slow, and I agreed to that, but I guess I’m just no good at it. I like you, and I don’t care if you don’t want to sleep with me right now, or next month, or next year. I like you, and I’m perfectly fine with just making out with you on the couch or at the dressing room before shows or at the garage when no one’s looking. Okay?”

Derek opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before just snapping it shut, swallowing hard, and nodding.

“I need you to say it,” Stiles tells him.

“Okay, Foxy,” Derek says, his voice a little hoarse.

Stiles’ entire body slumps in relief, and he leans closer to Derek so he can brush their lips together.

“Yay,” Stiles says, and Derek smiles before closing the gap between them and kissing him softly on the lips.

“Me too,” Derek says against Stiles’ lips.

“You too what?”

“I like you, too.”

Stiles pulls back to look at him, eyes raking over his face, and then he’s beaming at Derek, eyes warm and bright and like anything else.

Derek can’t help but lean back in and kiss him again, soft and slow.

But it’s not enough, not after this.

Derek brings his hands down to Stiles’ waist and pulls him closer, biting down on Stiles’ bottom lip and tracing his tongue over it as Stiles’ hands go to his hair, gripping it tight and keeping him just where he is. Derek takes his time licking his way into Stiles’ mouth, tasting him, swallowing the little gasps and moans he makes as Derek nipps at his lips.

Derek moves his head lower, mouthing at Stiles’ jaw before dropping to rake his teeth over Stiles’ pale throat, pausing to suck a mark at his pulse point.

“Hey,” Stiles says, tugging on his hair until he stopped what he was doing. “No marking.”

“Sorry,” Derek mumbles, placing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“It’s okay,” Stiles angles his head a little, sucking Derek’s lower lip into his mouth before letting it go. “Just do it where no one can see.”

Derek smirks at him and pushes Stiles back until he’s resting against the counter, and then promptly falls on his knees in front of him. He slides one hand up Stiles’ shirt, pushing it up. He dips his head to nose at the trail of hair beneath Stiles’ navel, kissing the skin just above his waist band. He can feel Stiles’ muscles twitching under his palm, and when he looks back up at him Stiles is staring back, pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed, his mouth parted and swollen from kissing.

He’s about the hottest person Derek’s ever seen in his life.

And he’s not even in drag.

Derek glances back down at the cut of Stiles’ hips before biting down and worrying a mark there, smirking against Stiles’ skin when he hears him gasp and buck his hips forward in an aborted motion and pressing his hard-on against Derek’s body. Because as soon as he realizes what he just did he tenses again, and Derek has to pull back and place both of his hands firmly on Stiles’ ass and _squeeze_ before he starts to relax again.

“I want to suck you off,” Derek tells him, and startles a little at how hoarse his voice sounds.

“ _Fuck_. You,” Stiles shakes his head a little and _glares_ at him. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Okay,” Derek raises an eyebrow at him. “But can I suck you off?”

“Oh my god, Derek,” Stiles says, and gives Derek his answer when he starts unbuttoning his pants and pulling his zipper down.

Derek helps him by getting a hand under his boxers and jeans and pushing them down, and his mouth waters at the sight of Stiles in front of him, hard, flushed, and leaking.

“Are you going to just stare at it the whole night?” Stiles says, but his joke falls flat at how breathless he sounds.

Derek only rolls his eyes at him before tipping his head down to mouth at Stiles’ balls, chuckling against the soft skin when Stiles groans. He takes Stiles’ dick in his hand, pumping it a little before tonguing at the slit, enjoying the bitter taste of precome on his tongue, and then swallowing him down.

Derek hums around him when Stiles curses under his breath and spreads his legs wider, settling more firmly against the counter. Derek holds Stiles down with a hand on his thigh and the other one to his stomach while he bobs his head up and down, hollowing his cheeks and _sucking_. He likes the feel of Stiles heavy in his mouth, likes to hear Stiles’ choked up gasps and moans as he tries to keep himself quiet, likes it when he loses it a little and buries one of his hands in Derek’s hair.

Stiles brings his other hand to cup Derek’s jaw, pressing his thumb against the corner of Derek’s bottom lip and feeling as his dick slips in and out of Derek’s mouth.

“Your fucking _mouth,_ bright eyes,” Stiles breathes out, letting his hand drop and closing his eyes when Derek merely looks up at him and starts sucking harder.

Derek keeps his gaze up. He wants to watch Stiles fall apart, wants to watch the expression he makes when he comes down Derek’s throat, and he wants it soon.

Derek relaxes his throat and takes Stiles as far as he can into his mouth, his nose resting against the soft curls at the base of Stiles’ dick. He lets go of Stiles’ thigh and moves his hand so he can cup Stiles’ balls and roll them a little, letting his middle finger trace the skin behind it, and he presses up just as Stiles puts his other hand on Derek’s hair and _tugs_.

Stiles doesn’t make any noise when he comes. He just throws his head back and closes his eyes, his mouth dropping open and his entire body tensing as he spills down Derek’s throat.

Stiles tugs on Derek’s hair again and Derek releases him, getting up from the floor and pressing his body hard against Stiles’. Stiles angles his head and kisses him, tasting himself on Derek’s tongue, moaning softly when Derek nips at his bottom lip.

One of Stiles’ hands untangles itself from his hair, sliding down past Derek’s shoulder and chest to rest just above the waistband of his jeans. He unbuttons Derek’s pants and slides his zipper down, his hand coming up to rub Derek over his boxers.

Derek lets his head drop against Stiles’ shoulder, and he’s breathing hard, rutting against Stiles’ hand, and then Stiles is hooking a finger on the waistband of his boxers and-

“Oh my god!”

Stiles startles so bad that one of his hands slips from the counter and he loses his balance, the only thing keeping him from falling and hitting his head being Derek’s hold on his hips.

“Why would you do that in the _kitchen_?” Laura screeches, turning on her back and waving her arms around as she goes to the living room. “Why?”

Derek and Stiles look at each other and Derek groans, giving Stiles’ hips a squeeze before stepping back and zipping his pants back up. He’s half hard now, and on the first chance he gets he’s going to kill Laura in her sleep.

He looks back at Stiles who’s pulling his pants back up and refusing to meet his gaze. They can still hear Laura going on about bleaching her eyeballs and never eating anything Stiles made ever again when Derek takes a step closer to Stiles just as he finished getting himself decent.

“Are we okay?” Derek asks, nudging Stiles’ chin with his nose until Stiles looks at him.

“You’re sister just caught us having sex,” Stiles whispers furiously. “That’s not okay.”

“No, that’s not,” Derek concedes, face scrunching up in disgust. “But are _we_ okay?”

“You just sucked my brains out through my dick,” Stiles rolls his eyes at him. “The only thing not okay here is that I didn’t have time to get my mouth on _you_.”

Derek smiles slowly at that, leaning in to peck Stiles on the lips before grabbing his hand and going to the living room to face his sister.

Laura has a hand over her eyes when they flop down on the couch.

“I can’t look at you,” Laura says. “Either of you.”

“Laura,” Derek says, Stiles’ hands still in his. “We have something important to tell you.”

“Yes,” Stiles says seriously, but Derek can see his lips twitch trying to contain a smile. “So we can avoid any uncomfortable situations like you barging into my apartment without notice and catching us in the middle of something.”

“I hate you,” Laura groans.

“You can’t hate me,” Stiles singsongs. “Not when I’m dating your brother.”

Laura lets her hand drop from her eyes at that, and looks from Stiles to Derek to their intertwine hands.

“You two are dating,” Laura says. “Each other.”

Both Stiles and Derek nod, staring at Laura in amusement as she sighs and leans back against the armchair.

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Laura waves a hand at them. “I don’t think I could have handled you two pining for each other longer than I already have.”

“I wasn’t pining,” Derek and Stiles say in unison.

Laura snorts through her nose, shaking her head at them, “Sure you weren’t.”

“So, Laura,” Stiles says, thumb tracing slow circles against the back of Derek’s hand. “You need to start knocking. Or ringing the doorbell. Or making a lot of noise when you decide to come here so I can hear you and protect your brother’s virtue before you lay eyes upon his magnificent body.”

Derek can feels his ears turn red at Stiles’ words, and by the way Laura looks torn between laughing or throwing up he’s pretty sure she can see it too.

“I don’t know whether to be disgusted or happy for both of you, so I’m just gonna go,” Laura says, getting up.

“Don’t forget to knock next time,” Stiles yells after her as she walks to the front door.

“Don’t forget that I’m calling everyone we know to give them the happy news,” Laura throws over her shoulder, slamming the door shut.

And that leads them to now, to Erica yelling at Derek through the row of cars at the garage that, “You’re boyfriend’s here!”

Derek presses his lips together and fights the urge to throw a can of paint at Erica’s head.

Everyone’s reaction to them getting together was mostly one of “ _Finally_ ”, kind of like Laura’s. With the exception of Scott, who takes his duty as Stiles’ best friend really fucking serious and goes as far as threatening Derek as soon as he gets him alone.

“If you hurt him, I’ll neuter you,” Scott tells him as he pulls him aside just before one of Stiles’ shows. “I know how to do it, and I won’t hesitate to do it to you.”

Right now Stiles appears by Derek’s side, eyes ranking over Derek’s shoulders and arms.

“Hot damn,” Stiles drawls out. “Who knew you’d look hot in a dirty gray wifebeater?”

“I don’t need to listen to this,” Isaac yells at them from under the hood of the car he’s working on, earning a laugh from Stiles.

“Is Boyd in his office?” Stiles asks Derek, biting down on his lower lip.

“You’re not having sex in my office,” Boyd says from behind Stiles, making him jump.

“Fucking hell,” Stiles hisses. “Make some noise when you walk.”

Boyd merely stares at him until Stiles blanches and huffs, “Okay.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Boyd says flatly.

Erica appears by Boyd’s side, eyeing Derek and Stiles in interest.

“I don’t know, baby,” Erica tells him. “We could hide some cameras in the office and have them go at it. I bet we’d make a lot of money out of it.”

“We’re not getting into pornography,” Boyd says, sounding more amused by her antics than mad that she’d even suggest something like that.

“I’m really not paid to listen to this, you know,” Isaac pipes up.

“Then go back to doing your job,” Erica says, kicking him in the thigh.

“We’re going to the office,” Derek sighs, taking Stiles’ hand in his.

“No sex,” Boyd points a finger at both of them.

“No sex,” Derek agrees while Stiles mumbles, “Dammit.”

Stiles makes them stop in front of the door leading to the office before going back inside. He picks up one of the markers glued to it and pulls the cap out, adding something to the names already there.

“Much better,” Stiles smiles at Derek when he’s done, looking proud of himself.

Just under the Twins there’s a little plus sign in red marker, and Derek smiles a little when he sees what Stiles wrote after it. The board doesn’t say only “Bossman Boyd & the Golden Twins” anymore, but “Bossman Boyd & the Golden Twins + Bright Eyes.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek shakes his head at him, still smiling.

“And you like me,” Stiles says, unconcerned.

As soon as they step into the office, Stiles crowds Derek against the door, mouthing at him neck. Derek runs his hands up and down Stiles’ back before sliding them under Stiles’ shirt, pressing them against skin.

“I thought we agreed to no sex,” Derek whispers against the side of Stiles’ head, letting his fingers dip under the waistband of Stiles’ jeans.

“I didn’t agree to anything,” Stiles complains, kissing his way up Derek’s neck. “You did.”

Derek tilts his head and catches Stiles’ lips with his own, kissing him slowly. When they break apart they’re both breathing a little hard, their lips red and swollen.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?” Derek asks, rubbing their noses together.

“Just wanted to see you,” Stiles shrugs, trading his fingers through Derek’s hair.

“Just wanted to make out with me in Boyd’s office, you mean,” Derek says, kissing the corner of his mouth and feeling Stiles smile against his lips.

“It’s not my fault if you’re ridiculously good at kissing,” Stiles tells him, placing a kiss on his jaw.

“I try,” Derek deadpans, taking his hands out of Stiles’ jeans and resting them on his hips, above his shirt.

“You _succeed_ ,” Stiles nips at his chin before pulling back and letting his hands drop from Derek’s hair to his shoulders. “I also wanted to talk to you about the show tonight.”

“What about it?”

“It’ll be for you,” Stiles says, tone serious.

Derek blinks at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“The song,” Stiles explains. “The choice of song is because it reminds me of…”

Derek watches as Stiles trails off and purses his lips, getting this faraway look on his face.

“Stiles?” Derek squeezes his hips, trying to get his attention.

“Right,” Stiles says, shaking his head and looking back at him. “I was going to say it reminds me of you and us but that’s not precisely it. It’s just. It’s upbeat and happy and you’ll probably never listen to it on a normal day, but it’s for you, okay?”

Derek takes a deep breath and presses a soft kiss against Stiles’ lips, “Okay.”

“Yay,” Stiles whispers, smiling widely. “Laura will probably make fun of us until her dying day, though.”

“We can always tell everyone she sucks on her thumb when she sleeps,” Derek shrugs, enjoying the sound of Stiles’ laughter in his ears.

“She would kill us,” Stiles says, running his thumb up and down the skin of Derek’s neck.

“Then we could just have sex in her kitchen instead.”

“Can we do that regardless?” Stiles asks, biting down on his lower lip.

“We’ll see,” Derek says, leaning in so he can kiss Stiles one more time.

They stay like that for a few more minutes, just mapping each other’s mouths and holding each other close. Derek likes this, that there’s no hurry for him and Stiles to do anything, no pressure for them to be more or do more. They’re just content to be in each other’s company.

It wasn’t like that with Kate, and maybe that’s why Derek values it so much. For him to be able to do things at his own pace, without being pushed into it or pressured into doing things just because Kate asked him to - as if he owed her that much.

“I have to head back,” Stiles says as he breaks the kiss, hiding his face against Derek’s neck.

“I’ll walk you to the Jeep,” Derek says, pushing him back and opening the door.

Boyd narrows his eyes at them when they step out of the office, but after one quick look assessing that their clothes were just the same as when they went in he nods and actually smiles a little when Stiles waves a hand at him. Erica gets a kiss on the cheek, and Stiles nudges Isaac’s shoe with his own until Isaac mutters a “Bye, Stiles” from under the car.

They walk hand in hand back to where the Jeep is parked, and as soon as Stiles gets close enough to the driver’s door Derek grabs him by the hips and turns him, pressing Stiles against it.

“This is what I get for crowding you against the office door?” Stiles asks, eyes locked with on the side of Derek’s head, who currently is biting down on Stiles’ earlobe.

“Maybe I just want to make out with you against your car,” Derek says, placing a kiss to a spot just below Stiles’ ear.

“I don’t think this counts as making out,” Stiles says as Derek moves on to kiss his way up Stiles’ neck.

Derek’s only response is to crash their lips together, licking his way between Stiles’ parted lips and into his mouth as Stiles gasps in surprise. He presses his body more firmly against Stiles’, groaning against his mouth as Stiles scratches his nails lightly over the back of his neck.

“Okay,” Stiles says, breaking the kiss. “I take that back.”

Derek smirks at him and places one final kiss against his lips before stepping back.

“You still want me to stop by yours before we go to Jungle?”

“Just because the performance is for you, it doesn’t mean you get roped out of helping me get ready,” Stiles raises an eyebrow at him.

“Just checking,” Derek shrugs.

“I’ll see you later tonight, then,” Stiles says as he opens the door and gets into the Jeep.

“Tell Laura I said hi.”

“I will,” Stiles smiles at him before starting the car. “See you, bright eyes.”

* * *

“How many wigs do you have?” Derek asks Stiles as they try to come up with a look for him to wear.

The only limit Stiles set for tonight is that whatever Derek picks out for him to wear, it has to be dark. Apparently it has something to do with the music he’s going to perform to, and Derek knows better than to say anything about it.

“A lot,” Stiles says as he takes dresses from his closet and drops them on the bed. “And you can start looking through these.”

Derek eyes the pile, noting that most of the dresses there are either black or dark gray.

“What color is your wig going to be?”

Stiles stops only long enough to point to the wig currently sitting on his nightstand before going back to what he was doing. He’s not usually this quiet, and Derek starts to wonder if his behavior has anything to do with the fact that he told Derek the show tonight is for him.

Derek grabs the wig from the nightstand. The [wig](http://gorgeoushairwigs.com/images/Bedhead.jpg) is honey blonde colored and layered, giving it a messy sort of look, and with bangs that Derek can tell will fall just above Stiles’ eyes. He’s kind of really excited to see how Stiles will look in it.

With that in mind, he starts going through the dresses, making piles out of the ones he doesn’t think will be a good choice. He doesn’t notice that Stiles stopped throwing clothes on the bed until he feels arms wrapping tightly around his waist and lips against the back of his neck.

“Have any ideas yet?” Stiles asks, his warm breath making the small hairs against Derek’s nape move.

Derek rakes his eyes over the bed, taking in all the different fabrics and colors until something catches his attention.

“Yes,” he says as he taps Stiles’ hands on his stomach.

Stiles lets him go without a word, stepping back and letting Derek walk over to one side of the bed and grab one of the dresses on the far right corner, edged between the mattress and the nightstand.

The fabric is a metallic shimmering gray, with a black diagonal mesh in front of it, smaller than the one on Stiles’ light gold dress. It also has an overlay at the skirt that Derek can tell will look amazing whenever Stiles moves his hips a little too energetically.

“This one,” Derek says, handing the [dress](http://www.greatglam.com/pd-blows-up.cfm) to Stiles.

“Thanks,” Stiles smiles at him and kisses him on the cheek as he takes the dress. “What do you think? Platform or sandals?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in sandals before,” Derek frowns at him, trying to remember.

“Sandals it is,” Stiles says, smirking. “And that means you get to paint my toenails, too.”

“How exciting,” Derek deadpans, but they both know that’s actually something Derek looks forward to it.

Stiles disappears only to come back with a pair of heeled strappy studded [sandals](http://www.stilettostyle.com/5heeledstrappysandalwithstuddedplateaccents.aspx) in hand, showing them off to Derek.

“We like?”

Derek looks from the sandals and back to the dress resting against Stiles’ shoulder and nods.

He likes it.

Probably a little too much.

And judging by the way Stiles’ smirk widens, he knows it too.

They go through the familiar process of zipping the dress and wig in a plastic cover, Derek getting the makeup box and the dress as Stiles checks to see if he has everything he needs in his backpack, and then they’re both heading out to Jungle in Stiles’ Jeep.

Danny greets them by the back entrance before going to help out at the bar, and they make their way to the dressing room so Stiles can start getting ready.

Derek is panting Stiles’ toenails while Stiles paints a coat of silver glitter nail polish over the already black nails of his hands when Scott shows up in the dressing room, stopping halfway, closing the door behind him to stare at both of them in horror.

“Hey, Scottie,” Stiles greets him, not bothering to look up from painting his pinky.

“This is so disturbing in so many ways I don’t even know what to do,” Scott tells them, his voice low and serious.

“Says the guy who has regular threesomes with his high school sweetheart and one half of the Golden Twins,” Stiles waves a hand at him.

“Your boyfriend is painting your toenails,” Scott tells him accusingly. “There’s no way that’s not weirder than having threesomes.”

“Are we really going to discuss this?” Stiles asks him, and Derek thinks he sounds more thoughtful than put out by the prospect of them doing so.

He also notices that Scott actually takes a few seconds to consider the idea before he says, “No.”

“So,” Stiles says, going back to his nails. “What brings you here, Scott?”

“Just wanted to see how you guys were doing,” Scott shrugs. “And to tell you that Erica’s at the bar helping Danny.”

Derek looks up when Stiles groans and when he turns his head to Scott he can see him nodding in sympathy.

“What’s wrong with Erica being at the bar?” he asks hesitantly, not really sure if he wants to know.

“She gets awesome tips because she’s, you know, _Erica_ ,” Scott starts explaining. “And also because people are afraid of her. But her cocktails are _awful_ , man.”

Stiles groans again and says, “And no one has the guts to tell her that because she’s fucking _terrifying_ and will probably find a way to poison your drink and make you die a slow and painful death.”

Derek shakes his head at both of them before finishing off Stiles’ nails, patting him on the ankle and saying, “All done.”

“Thanks, babe,” Stiles says, pulling him close with a hand at the back of his neck and kissing him soundly on the lips.

Derek knows he looks a little stunned after Stiles pulls back, and he glares at Scott when he hears him make a distressed sound at seeing both of them kiss. By the way Scott only presses his lips together as if trying not to laugh, he figures he doesn’t look that intimidating, not with the way he felt his face getting hot the moment Stiles called _babe_.

He’s not averse to pet names, not really. It’s just that this is _new_ and it feels strangely right to have that with Stiles, in a way that it had never felt with Kate. 

At first, whenever she called him sweetheart or sweetie and traced her nails up and down his arm he felt warmth spread over his body, felt ecstatic that this beautiful older woman had chosen him. But as their relationship progressed and Kate started acting more possessive towards him, all it made him feel was wrong in his own skin, dirty, _sick_.

With Stiles, it makes him feel that warmth again. He thinks it should scare him, but he’s come to know that Stiles is not Kate. Stiles does whatever he does for Derek because he wants to, not because he expects something of Derek in return or has other reasons behind it.

“You okay, Derek?” Stiles asks, scooting over on his chair and laying his hands on top of Derek’s knees.

Derek blinks at him, noticing the lack of Scott anywhere, and nods his head slowly, clearing his throat before saying, “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Stiles considers him for a moment before smiling softly, “You don’t wanna talk about it.”

It’s a statement, but Derek still shakes his head and answers, “Not tonight.”

“Some other night?” and Stiles sounds hopeful, biting down on his bottom lip when Derek takes a minute to answer.

It’s not that he doesn’t want Stiles to know about it, it’s just that he never told anyone before. He’s not even sure he can, not sure he can explain to someone he’s come to care about how he’s the entire reason his entire family burned alive and died.

“We should start on your makeup,” Derek says, because he doesn’t want Stiles to make a liar out of him, doesn’t want to make promises he’s not sure he can keep.

Stiles sighs and leans in, kissing Derek softly on the lips before pulling back and settling against the chair again.

Derek smiles sadly at him, trying not to think of anything as he prepares Stiles’ face. He uses a lot of eyeliner and black eye shadow, remembering the whole ‘dark’ theme, grabbing some of Stiles’ silver body glitter and smudging it on the skin beneath his eyes. He goes for a dark red lipstick this time, swallowing hard at the way it makes Stiles’ lips look and not being able to help it when he tilts his head down and steals a kiss.

“You can get dressed now,” Derek tells him, not making a move to wipe the red out of his lips.

Stiles stops his with a hand on his elbow when Derek turns to start putting his makeup away, bringing his other hand up to cup Derek’s jaw and pull him closer as he smacks a kiss against Derek’s cheek, hard.

“No cleaning that up,” Stiles says, pointing at the mark he just made.

“Yes, ma’am,” Derek gives him a nod, pleased when Stiles smirks at him.

He watches as Stiles turns back and takes his shirt and pants off, and Derek is a little surprised when Stiles goes back for the backpack he dropped on top of one of the dressing room tables before going back to where the hangers are and promptly stepping out of his boxers.

“What-” Derek tries to ask, but snaps his mouth back shut when he sees Stiles fish black lace cheeky [panties](http://www.malepower.com/images/447/Images/145-162%20black.jpg) out of his backpack.

Stiles playfully arches an eyebrow at Derek before sliding the panties on, keeping their eyes locked the entire time. Derek makes a choked up noise at the back of his throat when Stiles brings one of his hands down to adjust himself, and all he wants to do is to drop down on his knees in front of Stiles and mouth the line of his dick through the lace until he’s hard and leaking.

“What do you think?” Stiles asks him, sounding a little breathless and he twirls around for Derek, so he can see the way the fabric stretches around his ass.

“I think I like this better than the nail polish,” Derek says, startling at how wrecked his voice sounds.

Stiles laughs and winks at him, eyes glinting in humor. He turns around again, giving Derek the perfect view of his ass, and takes his dress out of the plastic cover, slipping it over his head. Derek doesn’t know why he likes Stiles in a dress so much, but he thinks that the way it stretches around his broad shoulder and how it always manages to barely cover his ass has something to do with it.

Derek helps him put on his wig and watches him as he slips on his heels, and Derek has to admit he’s a little fascinated with the way Stiles’ black toenails look against his pale skin and the black studded straps of the sandal. Stiles catches him staring, and smiles wickedly at him, eyeing him under his bangs. Derek was right when he thought Stiles would look good with that wig, the strands messed up and all over the place, like he just got out of bed.

They walk to the side of the stage together, Derek with his back to the audience, and he knows Stiles found their friends when he waves a hand at them before looking back at Derek.

“I’m kind of nervous,” Stiles admits, biting down on his bottom lip.

“Why?”

“Because you’re here,” Stiles says, smiling sheepishly.

“Foxy,” Derek tries not to roll his eyes, not missing the way Stiles’ cheeks flush a bit at being called that. “I’ve been here for the past month.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, pursing his lips together. “But tonight I want to impress you.”

“As opposed to any other night when I’ve come to watch you perform?” Derek raises an eyebrow at that, watching the way Stiles squirms a little in his spot.

“You’re not helping,” Stiles whines, pouting.

“You’re gonna be great,” Derek tells him, sincerely, and cups his face between his hands. “Just like you always are.”

“You’re really good at this pep talk thing,” Stiles huffs.

“Thanks,” Derek says dryly, kissing Stiles on the tip of his nose. “Now go do your thing.”

“Oh my god, bright eyes,” Stiles breaths out and kisses him once firmly on the lips. “That was so sappy and so cute and now you have red lipstick on your lips.”

“I already had it before,” Derek says, trying to glare at him but failing miserably when the blush from his ears creeps down his neck and up his face.

Stiles chuckles at him before bringing one of his hands up and tracing his thumb over Derek’s lips until all the red lipstick comes off.

“There you go,” Stiles says, letting his hand drop on Derek’s shoulder.

They hear Danny say goodnight to the audience, and Derek leans up to place a kiss on Stiles’ cheek.

“Good luck,” Derek smiles a little at him.

“Thanks,” Stiles takes a deep breath before making a shooing motion with his hands. “Go sit with your sister.”

Derek nods at him and turns back, walking to where he can see Laura and the rest of their friends, sans Erica and Danny, sitting directly in front of the stage. He throws an arm around Laura’s shoulder when he gets closer to her, offerings hellos to the people around them.

“Are you ready?” Laura asks him, and Derek throws a confused look at her. “Stiles told me tonight the surprise is for you.”

Derek’s mind goes back to Stiles in panties, and he has to clear his throat before he answers Laura, “I’m okay.”

Laura wrinkles her nose up at him, “You were just thinking about sex, weren’t you?”

Derek gives her a blank stare, and feels slightly pleased with himself when she groans and pushes him away from her.

“At least tell me you two didn’t have sex in the dressing room,” Laura pleads, and even though they didn’t Derek can’t help but smirk at her.

Before Laura can do something like punch him in the stomach or throw up on his boots, a faint beat but fast beat starts up and Stiles walks in on the stage, skirt flaring up behind up as he moves.

Derek almost chokes on his own spit as Stiles starts to sing, _take me now, baby, here as I am,_ his eyes glued to Derek’s. _Hold me close, try and understand_ and he brings the hand that’s not holding the mic up to trace the edges of the mesh in front of his dress. _Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe_ , he sings as his hand slides down his body, stopping just short of his crotch, where Derek knows the waistband of the panties begin. _Love is a banquet in which we feed_ , and Derek takes a deep breath as Stiles smiles sharply down at him.

 _Come on, now try and understand_ , Derek’s attention drops from Stiles’ face to his feet as he starts tapping his heel against the stage as the beat gets faster. _The way I feel when I’m in your hands_ , and Derek’s never been happier for the long tail of the dress as Stiles bends over and runs one hand up from his ankle back to his waist. _Take my hand, come under cover_  Stiles sings as he extends a hand forward. _They can’t hurt you now, can’t hurt you now, can’t hurt you now_ , and Derek sees how serious Stiles’ eyes are.

He’s pretty sure he stops breathing as the chorus comes along and the beats explodes, and Stiles is dropping on his knees in front of him, his red lips mouthing [_because the night_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qUH-xk2MxAE) _belongs to lovers, because the night belongs to lust_. _Because the night belongs to lovers, because the night belongs to us_ , and Stiles leans closer until he’s almost face to face with Derek and repeats it all once, twice without ever breaking his gaze.

Stiles still has an outstretched hand towards him, and Derek doesn’t even think that Stiles has to continue the show as he grabs him by the wrist and pulls him forward and crashes their lips together.

He is faintly aware of Laura screeching somewhere on his right and of the other people cheering and screaming all around them, but everything else disappears as Stiles drops the mic on the stage floor and brings his hand to the back of Derek’s neck, his fingers playing with the hair there.

Derek knows this is a promise from Stiles as much as it is anything else, and he can’t help but smile against Stiles’ lips, opening his mouth to let Stiles do as he pleases. Stiles moans as Derek lets him take control of the kiss, fucking his tongue into Derek’s mouth, sometimes pulling back just enough so he can biting down on Derek’s top lip and suck it gently into his mouth.

When they break apart Stiles is looking a little dazed, his lipstick smudged around his lips and chin, and all Derek can do is smirk at how debouched he looks right now. He picks the mic up from the ground when Stiles doesn’t make a move to do so and waves it in front of his face. Stiles looks from Derek’s lips, which he no doubt thinks are just as stained with lipstick as Stiles’, to Derek’s hand before shaking his head and grabbing the mic, pausing only to smile brightly at Derek before getting up from where he was kneeling and going back to singing and dancing in front of anyone.

Derek doesn’t take his eyes from him the entire time he’s up there, smiling and he smiles widely whenever Stiles looks back at him, and by the time Stiles says his thanks and hops off the stage his cheeks are burning. Stiles doesn’t even bother to go back backstage and get off his drag queen ensemble before he’s running to Derek and throwing himself at him, wrapping his arms around Derek’s shoulders.

“You liked it,” Stiles breathes against his neck and _giggles_.

“You have lipstick on your chin,” Derek grunts.

Stiles pulls back to stare at Derek and smirk at him, tracing his thumb under Derek’s bottom lip before saying, “You too.”

“Why don’t you two go back to the dressing room to clean yourselves up and get rid of all the sexual tension?” Laura asks, coming up behind Stiles and kissing him on the cheek. “You did great tonight. You even made Derek smile.”

Stiles looks amazingly proud of himself when he says, “Yes, I did. And yes, we will.”

“I’ll save you a seat at the bar,” Laura calls after them as Stiles drags him back to the dressing room by the wrist.

The first thing Derek does as he gets inside is to lock the door. He doesn’t want Scott, or Danny, to walk in on them while he’s about to make Stiles come.

Stiles tries to crowd him against the door, but Derek stops him with a hand on his chest and pushes him up against one of the tables, waiting until Stiles is resting against it before bringing their mouths together. There’s not much lipstick left on Stiles lips, but Derek takes it as his mission to lick away every lingering trace of it.

Stiles spreads his legs wider, snaking his arms around Derek’s waist to pull him closer until they’re pressed flushed together. Derek has a hand on Stiles’ bare thigh, and he slides it up and under Stiles’ dress until his fingers brush against the front leg of Stiles’ panties. Stiles groans against his lips as Derek hooks one finger under it, tracing it up and down Stiles’ skin and smiling when he feels him shiver.

Derek breaks the kiss, taking his hand from under Stiles’ dress to come up to his head.

“Take the wig off,” Derek says, voice hoarse.

Stiles kisses him fast on the lips before doing as he’s told, throwing the wig on top of a chair when he gets it free. Derek runs his hand over Stiles’ hair, loving how soft it is against his skin while Stiles is busy mouthing at Derek’s neck and jaw, sucking marks on whatever patch of skin he can find while trying to unbutton Derek’s jeans. When he finally gets Derek’s jeans and boxers out of the way and makes a move to touch him, Derek stops him again.

Stiles looks up at him quizzically, and then Derek has his hands up Stiles’ dress again, this time to pull his panties down past his thighs and legs. He holds the lace between his fingers, pushing Stiles’ dress up with one hand to finally get a good look on him. Derek fights the urge to lean down and trace his tongue against Stiles’ shaft, suck the head of his dick in his mouth, taste him from where he’s leaking precome.

“Slide down a little for me,” Derek asks him, his hands holding on to Stiles’ hips as he moves down the table.

Derek takes Stiles’ legs and wraps them around his waist, Stiles locking his feet behind Derek’s back. He still has his heels on, and the thought of that is what makes Derek speed things along.

“Please tell me you have lube with you,” Derek asks, staring into Stiles’ blown eyes.

“Makeup box,” Stiles answers, sounding breathless.

Derek thanks the universe when he sees the box just an arm’s reach away from where they are, and he pulls it closer and starts rummaging through it, smirking when he finds what he’s looking for.

The panties are still in his hold, and he braces one hand against the table before shuffling a little on his feet until he can line both of their dicks together. He lets go of the panties only long enough to open the bottle and squirt some lube into the palm of his hand, groaning when he reaches between their bodies and slicks both of their dicks with lube.

Stiles brings his hands up to Derek’s shoulders to keep his balance, biting down on his bottom lip at the friction, whimpering and rocking his hips forward when Derek’s hand moves away, only to outright moan when Derek matches his rhythm. Derek has the panties wrapped around his hand, and the way the lace feels against them as Derek’s fingers wrap around them is about the best thing Derek’s ever felt in his life.

Stiles drops one of his hands to join Derek’s, helping him jerk them off, while he tilts his head to the side and pulls Derek’s face to his neck. Derek knows what he wants, and he immediately starts biting at the skin, worrying it between his teeth and not caring about other people seeing the marks he put on Stiles.

They start to move their hands faster, rock their hips harder, and at any other time Derek would have been embarrassed that it only takes Stiles getting a hand on his hair and _tugging_ to make him come. But as he bites down on Stiles shoulder and feels him spilling against both of their hands just a few seconds later, he can’t say that he minds all that much.

“Well,” Stiles says, trying to catch his breath. “Those panties are ruined.”

Derek snorts against his shoulders, placing a kiss against the irritated skin where he bit down before pulling back. He turns to the makeup box again and grabs a few packs of wet wipes Stiles insists on bringing with him and offers them to Stiles, who takes them and goes on about cleaning them both up and making sure not to get come on his dress.

They get out of the dressing room a few minutes later, Stiles in jeans and a t-shirt this time while Derek helps him carry his things back to the bar. Derek glares at Laura as they get closer, as if daring her to make any comments about what obviously just happened between him and Stiles.

“Please tell me you two didn’t leave jizz stains all over the place,” Danny pleads, not having the same qualm about it.

“We didn’t,” Stiles assures him, and Derek tries not to think about the stained panties shoved inside of Stiles’ backpack.

“Good,” Danny nods at them, looking relieved. “What do you two feel about staying after closing time and help me with this mess?”

“And party?” Stiles asks hopefully.

“I guess I can spare a bottle of vodka,” Danny smiles, showing his dimples. “Or three.”

“What do you think?” Stiles turns to Derek. “You up for it?”

“Sure,” Derek shrugs. “Anyone else staying?”

“Everyone,” Danny says. “Erica said she wants to teach Isaac how to make drinks.”

“Poor Isaac,” Stiles shakes his head, smiling a little.

The next couple of hours are spent dancing, with Stiles successfully dragging Derek to the dance floor once again. Derek can see Allison in between Isaac and Scott a couple of feet away, and he’s strangely fascinated with the way the three of them move, totally at ease and in sync with each other. Laura is at the bar with Boyd, talking and gesturing wildly while Erica serves the customers, Danny right by her side at almost all times.

After Danny walks the last person to leave past the exit door, he closes it and locks it, coming back to the bar and flopping down on a chair.

“Poor Danny,” Erica coos, scratching her nails over his scalp. “You look exhausted.”

“I forgot how bad this was,” Danny says, leaning into Erica’s touch. “How are you not tired?”

“I worked in bars all my way through college,” Erica shrugs. “It’s surprisingly easy to come back to it when you need it.”

“Thanks,” Danny offers her a tired smile. “Now would you mind getting us beers?”

“You guys don’t want me to make you cocktails?” Erica asks, frowning a little.

“No!” everyone says immediately, Erica narrows her eyes at them.

“It’s just that,” Scott starts, and Stiles fills in, “It wouldn’t be fair for you to make them and us not having to pay for such delicious drinks.”

Scott, Isaac, and Allison both nod at that, while Laura and Boyd try to hide their smiles behind their hands.

“Well,” Erica concedes. “In that case.”

She brings out the beer bottles and leaves them on top of the counter, calling Isaac to behind the bar so she can teach him how to make cocktails. Isaac looks a little bit apprehensive, but goes anyways, and they all laugh at Erica trying to get him to mix drinks together.

Stiles settles on a chair next to Derek, angling his body so that his back rests half against Derek’s chest. Derek has an arm thrown over his shoulder, his fingers tracing mindless patters over the skin of Stiles’ arm, and he feels _happy_.

When Laura asked him to come back and he packed his things and drove away from New York, all he thought was that Beacon Hills would be his downfall again. That all the guilt and sadness he associates with this place would eventually eat him whole, and that he’d go back to the sad excuse of a human being he was before he left.

Derek never expected to find Stiles. He never thought he would have someone in his life who actually liked him for who he was, moody and all. Stiles didn’t mind his dry wit, he matched it. He accepted that there were things Derek wasn’t ready to talk to him about, and he never pushed for more, never made Derek feel like he owed him something or was supposed to act a certain way just because they were together.

“You okay?” Stiles asks, turning his head to the side so he can face Derek.

“Yeah,” Derek says, leaning in and brushing their lips together.

Stiles’ hand comes up to cup his jaw and keep him in place for a little while, his mouth opening for Derek, and Stiles sighs into the kiss as Derek caresses his tongue with his own. Derek pulls back to kiss him once, twice, three times softly on the lips before rubbing their noses together and settling back against the chair.

Stiles moves until he can throw his legs over Derek’s, and lets his head drop against Derek’s shoulder and neck. He places one hand flat against Derek’s stomach, and Derek can’t help the way his muscles twitch at the touch.

“Tonight was a good night, wasn’t it?” Stiles asks, eyeing their friends with a small satisfied smile on his face.

Before Derek can answer, Isaac walks up to them with a glass in hand and offers it to Stiles.

“What’s this?”

“It doesn’t have a name yet,” Isaac shrugs. “I just put a little bit of everything in it.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Probably not?”

“If he gets alcohol poisoning,” Derek says, pointing a finger at Isaac. “I’ll make sure your death looks like an accident.”

Stiles blinks up at him and licks his lips, “You sound really hot when you’re threatening people in my behalf.”

“Not paid to hear this,” Isaac groans, and then taps his fingers against Stiles’ hand. “Now drink it. I need to know if I’m as bad as Erica at this.”

“So you can brag about it when you’re not?” Stiles asks, lifting the glass to his lips.

“Exactly,” Isaac says, looking at him expectantly.

Stiles takes a sip and his eyes widen, and Derek is about to punch Isaac in the stomach when he says, “Oh my god, this tastes like lemon and orange heaven.”

“Really?” Isaac’s eyes light up, a wide smile splitting his face.

“ _Yes_ ,” Stiles says, holding the glass up to Derek. “Try it.”

Derek takes the glass from him and takes a sip, nodding his head at Isaac, “It’s really good.”

“Awesome,” Isaac says, looking pleased with himself. “I’m gonna go brag now.”

“Good luck,” Stiles yells after him, taking his glass back from Derek.

At some point Laura sets up some music over the sound system, and now her, Erica, and Allison are dancing on top of the bar. Boyd and Scott stare up at them, amused, while Isaac and Danny are off to the side, Danny with a glass of Isaac’s cocktail in hand, both of them deep in conversation. Stiles is tapping his fingers against Derek’s stomach according to the beat, but neither of them make a move to get up and dance.

Derek turns his head a little so he can nose at Stiles’ hairline, smiling against his forehead as Stiles cuddles closer and kisses his chest. Derek moves the arm over Stiles’ shoulder so that is resting against the back of his neck, and he scratches his nails lightly over the back of Stiles’ neck and his scalp. He feels Stiles relax and burrow deeper against him, trying to get as close as he possibly can, not that they aren’t practically in each other’s laps now.

Laura and Allison are now laughing about something as they rearrange the bottles of liquor behind the bar, while Boyd is sitting on a chair with Erica on his lap and talking to Danny, and Scott and Isaac are perched on top of the counter, drawing on napkins with the pen they got from under the bar. And that’s when Derek smells it, the scent of smoke, faint but still there.

“Do you smell that?” Derek asks, alert.

“What?” Stiles asks him, confused.

“The smoke,” Derek says, pushing Stiles’ legs off of him. “Do you smell it?”

“Derek, what are you-” Stiles stops, takes a deep breath, and his eyes widen. “Oh shit.”

Derek is up in an instant and walking towards the bar, dragging Stiles by the hand with him. Laura is the one who sees him first, smile dropping as she takes in his serious face.

“Derek?” Laura asks, and at her tone everyone stops what they’re doing to stare at him.

Derek ignores her and turns to Danny, “Unlock the front door, and everyone get the fuck out.”

“Wha-” Danny starts, and Stiles interrupts him.

“Can you smell the smoke, Danny?”

Danny eyes go wide and bounce over the club as he takes a deep breath and his face goes pale, “The dressing room.”

Everyone turns their gaze to the closed door by the stage, and they can see a faint light coming from the slit at the bottom between the door and the floor, as well as the smoke.

Derek is the first one to move, grabbing Stiles’ dress and backpack in one hand and handing them to Stiles while he takes the makeup box and shoves it at Laura. Danny is walking towards the front door and opening it while Derek and Scott help Laura and Allison over the counter and onto the floor, and as they walk to the front door with Isaac, Boyd and Erica behind them, Danny lets them all step out of the club first before he walks out and closes the door back up again.

As soon as they’re out and Danny is calling the police, Derek sits on the floor, his head between his knees. He’s breathing hard, and he barely registers when Stiles and Laura drop beside him, Laura’s hand gripping his forearm while Stiles rubs small circles against his back. It takes him a few minutes until he’s in control of himself, and when he lifts his head back up he pulls them both close to him.

He can feel Laura shaking under his arm, and he squeezes her twice as hard for it. He knows he is not the only one who lost something in a fire once.

In no time the police and fire department are there, and Derek is still a little out of it that he doesn’t even get to freak out when an older man who looks a lot like Stiles and is dressed in uniform stops in front of them and ask them if they’re okay.

“We’re fine, dad,” Stiles says softly, his hand still at Derek’s back. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“The dressing room caught on fire,” he says tiredly, scrubbing a hand over his face. “We don’t know how it happened yet, but the reason the sprinklers didn’t go off is because the water was shut down.”

Derek starts breathing hard again, and Stiles takes his attention from his father to try and calm him down.

“It’s okay, babe,” Stiles whispers against his ear. “We’re okay.”

“Is your… friend alright?” Derek hears Stiles’ dad ask.

“He’s… he’s not my friend,” Stiles says, and straightens up as best as he can while still sitting on the floor. “Dad, this is my boyfriend, Derek Hale.”

Derek looks up at that and almost chokes on his tongue, because Stiles’ dad is the _Sheriff_ and he’s looking at him like all of a sudden things make sense. He must remember the Hale fire, and it’s not too much of a stretch to figure out why Derek and Laura are so affected by this.

“Nice to meet you, son,” the Sheriff offers him a small smile.

“You too, sir,” Derek nods.

“I’m gonna take care of things around here,” the Sheriff says. “You all should go home.”

“Thanks, dad,” Stiles says, helping Derek and Laura get up before going to hug his dad.

“No problem, kiddo,” the Sheriff smiles at him. “Just make sure to bring your boyfriend over for dinner sometime.”

Derek almost smiles at that when he hears Stiles groan and sees his cheeks flush. He nods at the Sheriff when he steps away, and the three of them make their way to the Jeep, Stiles offering to give them all a ride home.

Allison and Scott stop them on the way to make sure they’re okay.

“Yeah, buddy,” Stiles reassures him. “We’re fine.”

“Good,” Scott nods. “We’re lucky that we got out without any problems.”

“Yeah,” Allison agrees. “And I’m glad Kate decided to go home early.”

Derek’s heads snaps up to Allison at that, “Who?”

“Allison’s aunt,” Scott explains, and the bottom of Derek’s stomach drops out.

“She’s in town visiting and we invited her along,” Allison adds, oblivious to Derek’s reaction. “But she left just a few minutes before the show started, saying she wasn’t feeling well.”

“What her name?” Derek asks, knowing what the answer will be but still having to check.

“Her name’s Kate.”


	4. Act Four: Captivated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where everyone is sad and the author is (not) sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my classes started again, so it might take a few days longer for me to update the fic. but good news is that i already have most of chapter five written so maybe you won't have to wait that long ~
> 
> the **possessive behavior** tag is in relation to derek's past relationship with kate.

“Danny just called,” Stiles says, flopping down on the couch next to Derek and resting his head against Derek’s shoulder.

“Yeah?” Derek asks absentmindedly, staring at a blank spot on the wall.

He doesn’t bring his hand up to cup the back of Stiles’ neck like he usually does when they’re like this. By the way Stiles presses his cheek more firmly against him, Derek thinks he notices, but he’s glad when neither of them mentions it.

“They confirmed it was premeditated,” Stiles tells him. “Apparently someone snuck in through the back entrance and dosed the tables and chairs in gasoline and, you know, set fire to everything.”

Derek blinks and makes a conscious effort to keep his body relaxed and his breathing even. He doesn’t want to give anything away, doesn’t want Stiles to know that _yes, I know_ and that _that was what happened to my family_ and that _that’s what she does_.

“Dad says they don’t have any suspects yet,” Stiles continues. “Not that I’m surprised. It’s not like there were any people around Jungle that late at night, so there was no one to see anything.”

Not that it would make a difference if there were. Derek knew Kate was good at covering her tracks, so good that she got away with burning his entire family alive. But Derek can’t really say it was all her fault. He was the one who let her warm her way into his life, under his skin.

“And it’s kind of scary, isn’t it?” Stiles keeps going. “That someone would do that to Danny? I can’t imagine what type of person you’ll have to be to not like Danny enough to try and set his club on _fire_. Everybody likes Danny. Danny is awesome.”

“Can you stop talking about it for five minutes?” Derek snaps at him, immediately regretting it when Stiles flinches and moves away from him.

Derek opens his mouth to apologize, but closes it back up again when Stiles just shakes his head at him.

“You have to tell me what’s going on,” Stiles says quietly, his voice cracking at the end.

“Stiles,” Derek pleads, scrubbing a hand over his face.

He doesn’t want to do this, he doesn’t want to talk about what happened at the club two weeks ago, and he doesn’t want to tell Stiles why he reacted the way he did when Allison mentioned Kate, or why he snapped just now. He thought the only one who noticed that there was something weird and different about him as Stiles drove them home that night was Laura, but apparently Stiles knows him better than he originally thought.

And apparently Stiles is done waiting for him to come up with an explanation about it.

“You’ve been all distant and acting cagey for the last couple of weeks,” Stiles tells him, making an aborted motion to reach out and touch Derek only to drop his hand back in his lap. “And now this? Please, just talk to me.”

Derek stares at Stiles, mouth pressed in a thin line. Because it’s not as simples as just _talking_ to him, as just telling him what happened. It’s admitting out loud to what years and years of feeling guilty in silence kept telling him, that he was responsible for his family’s death.

So he gets up from the couch and says, “Drop it.”

“This has something to do with Allison’s aunt, doesn’t it?” Stiles swallows, looking up at Derek with concern. “Kate?”

Derek goes tense at that, and he feels so entirely hopeless staring at Stiles that he doesn’t think he can do this anymore.

He can’t bring himself to tell Stiles about her, what she did to him, how she went from sweet and fun and caring and someone he _loved_ to being possessive and unstable and someone he was _scared of_. That if he just had the guts to cut her out of his life, or maybe get her help instead of being naïve and thinking she’d get better on her own, things would be fine, _he_ would be fine and his family would still be alive.

“This all started when Allison told you about her,” Stiles says, and Derek doesn’t like where this is going and he especially doesn’t like the way Stiles’ expression gets all serious like he’s piecing something together. “The night of the,” he trails off, licking his lips. “At first I thought you were just shaken up because of it, which is completely understandable, but it was more than that, wasn’t it?”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just stands rooted to the spot in the middle of the living room, his entire body rigid and his hands clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palm.

“She’s one of the things I don’t know about you, isn’t she?” Stiles asks, and when Derek doesn’t answer he presses on. “She’s the one who hurt-”

“I can’t do this,” Derek finally croaks out, interrupting him.

He tears his gaze away from Stiles as Stiles’ mouth snaps shut and his entire body goes taut.

“What?” Stiles asks, his voice wavering. “What do you mean you can’t do this?”

“I can’t do this,” Derek says again, shaking his head and running a shaking hand through his hair.

He can’t tell Stiles, can’t possibly begin to explain how fucked up everything is, doesn’t even know _how_.

“Derek?”

“I can’t do this with you,” is what he settles for instead.

Because if he doesn’t know how to make things better, how to open up and tell him about it, then the least he can do is make sure Stiles is kept out of harm’s way - kept out of _Kate_ ’s way - even if it means letting him go.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Stiles breathes out, looking kind of angry and disappointed and so fucking _sad_ Derek feels sick to his stomach for being the one to do this to him.

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispers before turning on his back and walking to the door. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

He doesn’t look back when Stiles gets up from the couch and calls his name, and he doesn’t look back to see the devastated look on his face as Derek slams the door shut behind him. He just keeps walking, passes the door to Laura’s apartment, and walks down the stairs, and to the parking lot, even though it feels like he’s been ripped apart, like someone stuck their claws in his chest and torn it open.

When he gets into the Camaro, he’s half tempted to drive back to New York, away from all of this, from all the memories of _Stiles_ and _Kate_ and what was and what could have been if things were different, if _he_ was different. But he knows he can’t, not when she’s here, not when she tried to take everything away from him again.

Derek doesn’t notice where he’s going until he gets there. Figures the first place he would drive to after ending things with Stiles would be the remains of his childhood home.

Laura told him once she hoped they could rebuild it, someday. When they were older, maybe after they found someone or started their own families. That this way they could make new memories on the place they grew up in, so that ash and dust wasn’t all that was left, and so that this house could be a happy place for them again.

Derek doesn’t agree. This house, this _shell_ , is the symbol of everything he did wrong, of how he was the one who destroyed his family because he was too dumb to see what was in front of him. It’s because of it that he doesn’t think he deserves to have what Laura wants for them, not really; at least not here, not in this house, and definitely not when Kate somehow made her way back into his life after all these years.

He likes to thinks that maybe someday he could have had that with Stiles, if things weren’t the way they are now, if they had more time, if Kate hadn’t come back to fuck it all up.

Derek can’t say he would have told Stiles everything - about Kate, what happened, how everything was _his_ fault - but he thinks that if she hadn’t come back he wouldn’t have to tell him anything.

He never thought she’d set foot in this town again, not after what she did and all the lengths she went through not to get caught. And he wonders what was it that made her come all the way here from whatever hellhole she was in before, if she’s just really visiting family or if it’s something else.

It’s with his mind reeling that he takes a deep breath and gets out of the car.

The smell of ash and rotten wood is heavy in the air, and he takes a step back to lean against the side of the Camaro without really thinking.

The last time he’d been here, the house had been engulfed by fire.

He remembers getting here and seeing all the commotion and smelling the smoke, but it wasn’t until he spotted Laura kneeling on the ground and rocking back and forth while staring at their house that he realized what was happening. He remembers running towards her and collapsing on the ground by her side, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her and asking _what happened_ and _where is everyone_ over and over again even though he knew the answers already.

What he remembers most, though, is the sick feeling in his gut and the little voice inside his head telling him that _she_ had something to do with this, that this was _her_ work, and that it was _his_ fault it happened. And he wanted nothing more than to tell Laura about it, that he knew who did this to them, but he _couldn’t_. Because no one knew about him and Kate and their relationship, and he didn’t want his sister to hate him for it, for keeping this secret and being the reason Kate burned their family to death.

So he stares at what used to be his favorite place in the world, slides down to the ground, and cries for the first time in ten years.

* * *

They avoid each other.

No more mornings runs and having breakfast together, or Stiles cooking dinner for them on the nights Derek is too tired to move but still leaving Derek to wash all the dirty dishes after they’re done eating. No more Derek getting to decide what Stiles will wear for his shows - mostly because he’s not going to them anymore -, and no more tumbling into bed together after they get to the apartment from Jungle.

Neither Derek nor Laura mention when she goes back to helping Stiles. Derek knows that Laura is keeping her distance and not pushing the subject because she figures that Derek will try to make things right between him and Stiles soon.

Derek doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he has no intentions of doing that. Not when both of them being together might be dangerous for Stiles, not while Kate is still here and certainly not until he figures out what the fuck she wants.

Laura’s silence doesn’t last long, though, just like Derek knew it wouldn’t.

It’s been three weeks since the breakup when Laura finally caves in and corners Derek in his room.

“What happened?” Laura asks, sitting on top of his bed and hugging one of his pillows.

“Laura,” Derek sighs, focusing his attention on the canvas in front of him and not the pleading look on his sister’s face.

“I don’t like this,” Laura says. “You’re both _miserable_ , and neither of you will tell me what happened so I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you get Stiles back.”

“I’m not _miserable_.”

“Yes, you are,” Laura says, and then sighs. “I’m going to tell you something I never told you before and I need you to listen very carefully to me.”

Derek drops his brush on the floor and turns fully to face her, not even bothering to care about the paint splatters on the ground and his jeans. He looks at her and the bottom drops from his stomach, because Laura looks _sad_ and _worried_ and that’s a look he hasn’t seen in her since he was nineteen and lived in a small apartment in St. Louis.

“When you first got here, I thought calling you back was a mistake,” Laura tells him, and raises a hand when Derek opens his mouth to tell her that he’ll _leave_. “I thought you’d go back to acting like you were seventeen and that this town would be the end of you, that it would take you away from me.”

“Laura,” Derek whispers, coming up to sit on the bed next to her.

“But then you met Stiles and,” Laura trails of and takes a deep breath before she keeps going. “I’ve known you for all your life, Der. I’ve known you when you were sad and when you were happy and when you were angry, and then when you shut everyone off and got away from here the first chance you got. After what happened to us, you became this shell of what you used to be. It’s like I looked at you and you weren’t my little brother anymore, and I didn’t know _what to do_.”

Laura is crying softly by then, and Derek lets his head drop against her shoulder as he rubs circles over her back with a hand.

“So I let you go,” Laura croaks out. “That’s why I didn’t come after you when you ran away. Because I knew you needed this, and because I thought you’d _come back_.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek says, because he _is_.

He’s sorry about running away, and about staying away for ten years, and he’s sorry he ever had to leave here in the first place.

“But when Uncle Peter…” Laura stops, and Derek can feel her body shaking next to his as she tries to keep herself together. “I needed you here.”

“I am here,” Derek tells her.

“After you got here I was so afraid I’d wake up one morning and you’d be gone again,” Laura says quietly. “But then you met Stiles and it’s like you were my little brother again. You were smiling, joking around, laughing, talking to other people and making friends. You even made fun of my choice in clothes whenever I had to go out on a date.”

Derek smiles a little at that, “That pink dress with the yellow flowers was pretty awful.”

“Shut up,” Laura says, laughing weakly at him.

“It’s true,” Derek shrugs.

“I want you to be happy, baby bro,” Laura says softly. “And you are with Stiles. I don’t want you to lose that just because you’re too afraid to let him in.”

“I’m not afraid,” Derek says, pulling his head back from Laura’s shoulder so he can glare at her.

“You’ve always been afraid,” Laura tells him, smiling sadly at him. “Ever since the fire you’ve been afraid to let people get close to you because you don’t want to go through the pain of losing them ever again.”

Derek lets his hand drop from Laura’s back like he’s been burned, turning his head to the side so he can avoid her gaze. He hears Laura sigh and shuffle closer to him on the bed, until their knees are touching and Laura can lift her hands, grab hold of his ears, and making him turn to face her again.

She stares at him for a while, long enough that Derek starts shifting a little in place and opens his mouth a couple of times only to snap it shut again.

“There’s something you’re not telling him,” Laura says. “And he won’t tell me why or what it is because I don’t know about it too, right?”

“Laura,” Derek starts, trying to pry his face away from her grip only to have her press her nails against the skin behind his ears and keep him in place.

“I know you’re not going to tell me,” Laura says, and Derek can tell she’s fighting the urge to roll her eyes at him. “I wish you would, because I’m your sister and I love you and I want to help, but I know you won’t tell me anything. At least not until you’re ready. And I respect that. But I just wish that if you can’t talk to me, than maybe you could talk to Stiles. Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure he’d understand.”

“He wouldn’t,” Derek says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “You wouldn’t either.”

Laura blinks and gapes at him, and next thing Derek knows her hands are dropping from him ears to his shoulders and she’s shaking him hard.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Derek?” Laura snaps. “You’re my _brother_. My _family_. There’s nothing you would do that I wouldn’t understand, or that would make me not love you anymore. Absolutely nothing, okay? How can you even think that?”

Derek only shakes his head at her and turns his gaze to the ground, because there’s no way Laura would still think that if he told her about Kate.

“Look at me,” Laura shakes him a little again, waiting for Derek to face her again. “I love you, okay? Nothing in this world would change that. Not you running away, not you never speaking to me again, not you killing someone and calling me to help you hide the body.”

Derek makes a distressed sound at that, because Laura has _no idea_.

“You’re stuck with me as your sister for the rest of your life, okay?” Laura tells him softly. “And I’m pretty sure Stiles also wouldn’t mind being stuck with you forever, either.”

“Yes, he would,” Derek mumbles, ignoring the way his stomach flips at Laura’s words.

“Well, yeah,” Laura agrees, and Derek’s shoulders tense under her hands. “Not when you’re being an asshole to him and pushing him away.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes, you are,” Laura says, serious. “And I wish you would _stop_. That you’d just get over whatever bullshit that’s going through your head and go after him, go get him back.”

“Laura,” Derek scrubs a hand over his face. “I-”

“Just think about it,” Laura says, leaning in to place a kiss on his forehead before getting up from the bed. “Okay, Derek?”

Derek looks at her, at the way her eyes are red and her cheeks tear-stained, and says, “I’ll think about it.”

He’s kind of surprised that as soon as the words come out of his mouth, he finds that he means them.

“Good,” Laura smiles at him. “Now go clean the paint out of the floor and get dressed.”

Derek blinks at her, “What? Why?”

“Boyd called,” Laura explains. “He said he needs you to come in.”

“Great,” Derek huffs, getting up from the bed.

Derek picks up the brush and cleans all the paint off of the floor, but he doesn’t bother to do anything about his stained jeans. In fact, he doesn’t bother to change at all, knowing that if Boyd called it means Derek will probably get grease stains on his clothes.

As soon as he gets into the garage, Boyd puts him to work, and none of them stop until after closing time, when Erica just throws her arms up and refuses to do any more work.

“That’s it,” Erica says, wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. “We’re done for today.”

“I say when we’re done,” Boyd tells her, raising an eyebrow.

“And I say that if you expect to get any this week than we’re done for today,” Erica narrows her eyes at him.

Boyd opens his mouth, looking from her to Isaac to Derek and back again, until he closes it back up, sighs and nods his assent.

“Okay,” Boyd says. “Let’s all go home.”

“Finally,” Erica huffs, giving her back to them and walking towards the office.

“Whipped,” Isaac mumbles as Boyd watches Erica’s back as he goes.

“I can make you stay here and work, if you want,” Boyd tells him, unimpressed.

“That’s okay,” Isaac says. “I’m good.”

“Then shut up,” Boyd says, pointing a finger at him before following Erica into the office.

Derek only raises an eyebrow at Isaac, wiping the worst of the grease stains from his hands.

“So,” Isaac starts, stepping closer to Derek.

“Yes?”

“You and Stiles,” Isaac says, looking down at Derek expectantly.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just ask me that,” Derek says, voice calm. “Since it’s none of your business.”

“Scott’s worried,” Isaac says quietly. “We’re all worried.”

“I already had this conversation with Laura,” Derek tells him. “I don’t need to have it with you.”

Isaac nods at him, as if he understands.

“Just know that we’re your friends, too,” Isaac says. “In case you need help with anything.”

Derek doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he just nods at Isaac and goes back to what he was doing.

“Really, Derek,” Isaac tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not alone.”

Derek tenses at the contact, turning his gaze back up to Isaac, who’s staring at him like he’s daring Derek to say that _no, we’re not friends_. So Derek tries to relax under his hand and nods, clearing his throat before he says, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Isaac smiles a little at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, watching as Isaac gathers his things up and walks back to his car.

When Derek gets back home that night to find Laura sitting on the couch and eating ice cream, he doesn’t hesitate to flop down next to her and steal her spoon.

“Hey,” Laura protests as Derek takes the bowl off her hand.

“Hello,” Derek says, smiling a little at her.

Laura only raises an eyebrow at him before smirking.

“You’re thinking about talking to him.”

Derek’s face falls.

Because this is not a question of whether or not he wants Stiles back, because the answer will always be yes. He never should have let him go in the first place. If it wasn’t for Kate coming back and threatening everything he cares about again, he’s sure they’d still be together. Derek would still be painting Stiles’ nails before shows, and Stiles would still be baking him lemon cupcakes as a thank you on the weekends.

But she is here, and Derek doesn’t want to risk anyone getting hurt again. So he’ll settle for not doing anything until he comes up with a way – a way that doesn’t involve killing her and chopping her off into tiny pieces – for her to stay gone. And until then…

“It’s complicated,” Derek tells her.

Laura looks at him with a sad smile on her lips, shrugging as she says, “It’s love.”

And Derek’s eyes widen, because _shit_.

He’s in love with Stiles.

“Oh, baby bro,” Laura says, turning fully to look at him when she sees the expression on his face. “You had no idea, did you?”

Derek can only shake his head numbly at her.

He really had no idea, because the last time he thought he was in love with someone is so different from the way he feels when he is with Stiles.

“How could you not know?” Laura asks him, staring at him part surprised and part pitying.

Derek really wants to snap at her and say that he didn’t know because the last time he thought he loved someone, she _burned their entire house down with their family inside_.

“I-” Derek shakes his head helplessly.

“Okay, well,” Laura takes a deep breath. “But this is a good thing, right? That you finally figured out what everyone else knew.”

“ _Laura_ ,” Derek whines.

“I take it you didn’t know you were in love with Stiles when you broke up with him?”

Derek shakes his head again, even though the fact that he apparently is in love with Stiles is even more a reason for him to keep away from him.

“Then what did you think?” Laura asks him, exasperated.

“I don’t know, Laura,” Derek snaps. “I thought I liked spending time with him, and that he was fun, and that he made me laugh, and that life was a little more bearable when he was around. But I didn’t think I was-”

“You didn’t think you were in love with him,” Laura finishes for him.

“Yeah,” Derek mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, now you know,” Laura waves a hand in from of them. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Derek just stares at her, takes a deep breath, and says, “I don’t know.”

* * *

Derek should have seen this coming.

He should have seen this coming, but he’s still surprised when someone knocks on his door on a Wednesday after he gets home from the garage and he goes to open the door only to find Kate smirking back at him.

Derek’s never been happier that Laura is out on a date as he stares back at her.

“Why, hello there, handsome,” Kate purrs, raking her eyes over his body. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Derek just continues to stare at her, unable to move.

Because standing right in front of him is the woman responsible for murdering his entire family, and she still looks exactly like the person Derek fell in love with when he was sixteen.

And it’s not fair that she gets to smile at him like that and stand in front of him when all of his family is dead – because of _her_ -, and that he’ll probably end up in prison if he just reaches out and gets his hands around her neck and _strangles her to death_.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” she asks, smile widening at the obvious pure _hatred_ radiating off of him in waves.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Derek demands, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

“I came down to see my family and heard from my niece that you were back,” Kate says, still smiling. “Thought I should come say hi, maybe talk. You know, catch up on all the things I missed.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Derek tells her, glaring at her. “Not after what you did to _my family_ , not after what you did to _me_.”

“Then we don’t have to talk,” Kate says, taking a step closer when Derek moves back. “We can just go out and celebrate the good old days, you know, when you weren’t accusing me of burning people to death.”

Derek’s entire body goes tense and cold at that, which only makes Kate smile harder.

“And you could ask your little boyfriend to join us,” Kate says, narrowing her eyes at him. “Or should I say girlfriend?”

Derek takes two steps until he’s looming over Kate, and points a finger at her.

“Don’t you dare talk about him ever again,” Derek snarls through gritted teeth. “Now get the fuck out.”

Kate looks at him for a few more seconds and makes a thoughtful sound at the back of her throat before smiling brightly at him and saying, “See you later, sweetie.”

Derek watches her as she walks down the hallway and disappears around the corner. He takes a deep breath and forces his body to relax, fighting down the urge to either go after her and rip her to pieces or curl in a ball on the floor and cry.

When he turns around to go back to his apartment he finds the door to Stiles’ apartment open, him standing in front of him and staring directly at Derek, his face pale and his eyes huge. Derek’s eyes widen and he stops with a hand around the doorknob, not moving, and stares right back at him.

It’s the first time they’ve seen each other since Derek said they couldn’t be together anymore. They became very good at avoiding each other, and seeing Stiles again is more of a punch to the gut than Kate coming here to mock him.

And that makes Derek wonder how much of what Kate said Stiles was able to hear, and that if he did listen to some of it – Derek tries not to think of him hearing _all of it_ -, if he was able to make any sense of what he heard. The thought of Stiles knowing what he did, what happened, is enough to make him panic and wrench the door open.

“Derek!” Stiles calls him as soon as he sees the horrified look Derek is sure he’s sporting, only to have Derek panic even more, get into the apartment, and close the door before Stiles can even take two steps in his direction.

Derek lets his head fall back against the door with a thud, paying attention to the movements outside of the door. He can hear Stiles’ footsteps coming closer, and the shuffle of clothes as he moves. The knock on the door never comes, though, and soon Derek can hear the door to his apartment slamming shut.

He breathes a sigh of relief and scrubs a shaking hand over his face. This is not how things were supposed to go, and Derek can only imagine what Stiles must be thinking after seeing him and Kate together. He doesn’t want to explain what happened, but he knows that if there’s any chance of him getting back together with Stiles, he’ll have to. He owes him that much.

And Kate.

Fucking _Kate_.

Derek shakes his head and steps away from the door, going to his room and locking himself in.

He picks up one of his sketchpads and a pencil and gets lost in drawing, trying to stop himself from thinking about how fucked up everything is. He’s so focused on it that he doesn’t hear Laura come in until she’s pounding against his door.

“Open the door, Derek!”

Derek throws the sketchpad on the bed and gets up, opening the door to a very disgruntled Laura.

“Did something happen?”

“Your door was locked,” Laura says.

Derek blinks at her, “So?”

“So I thought you weren’t here,” Laura snaps, punching him in the shoulder.

Derek sighs and pulls her into a hug, “Sorry. I was drawing.”

Laura is quiet for a few seconds before she says, “It’s been years since you’ve done that.”

“I guess I was inspired,” Derek shrugs, running his fingers through her hair.

“Can I see?” Laura asks, pulling back.

Derek looks at her and shrugs again, only to have Laura smile at him and throw herself on his bed, grabbing the sketchpad and stopping cold at seeing what he drew.

“Derek,” Laura breathes out, staring at him with tears in her eyes.

Derek comes to sit down by her side and looks over her shoulder to the drawing of their parents.

“This is…,” Laura trails off, biting down on her bottom lip.

“Yeah,” Derek smiles sadly at her. “You can keep it.”

Laura’s eyes widen at that, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Derek nods. “I can always draw more.”

“I’d like that, baby bro,” Laura smiles warmly at him. “Now let’s go have dinner.”

They spend the rest of the night talking about nothing in particular, eating lasagna, and watching Laura’s Game of Thrones season one box set. And even though it’s pretty funny to watch Laura scream at the tv when something terrible happens, he can’t make himself relax when there’s still the threat of Kate being in town.

And knowing where he lives.

Derek goes to bed still worrying about it, and that’s how he spends most of the next day after he wakes up and goes to work at the garage. If Isaac, Erica and Boyd notice he’s quieter than usual, they don’t mention it, and Derek is grateful that he doesn’t have to come up with an excuse as to why he’s acting strange.

He also spends the day thinking about what he’s going to do with Stiles.

Derek knows they need to talk, and after the conversation he had with Laura he thinks that breaking up with Stiles might have been the second biggest mistake he ever made in his life - the first one being ever dating Kate in the first place.

He’s feeling so anxious by the time he gets home from work - going through dozens of scenarios in his head of how Stiles would react to knowing about everything - that he almost misses the note stuck to the front of his door. He immediately recognizes the handwriting, and his eyes widen as he reads the message.

> _Come to the show tonight._
> 
> _xoxo,_
> 
> _Foxy_

He looks to the direction of Stiles’ apartment and presses his lips into a thin line, wondering what Stiles wants from him. Even though he plans on telling him about Kate, he doesn’t want to do it now, while she’s still around. He folds the paper and slips it into his pocket, opening the door to the apartment and getting in.

When Laura gets home from the library he’s still thinking about whether he should go or not, if this is the right time to talk to Stiles about it all.

“Are you coming to the show tonight?” Laura asks him, flicking him in the nose with a finger.

Derek bats her hand away and turns to look at her as she sits by his side on the couch, “What?”

“I know Stiles wants you there,” Laura smiles at him. “What I don’t know is if you’re going to the show.”

Derek takes a deep breath and frowns, “I don’t know.”

“C’mon, little brother,” Laura bumps their knees together. “Stiles told me you don’t even have to talk to him.”

“You talked to Stiles?” Derek asks her, eyebrows raised.

“He told me he left you a note,” Laura shrugs. “He really wants you there, you know.”

“I don’t know if now’s a good time, Laura,” Derek admits, running a hand through his hair.

“No time is ever going to be a good time,” Laura looks at him pointedly. “You have to make it so. And again, you don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to. You can just watch him perform. I hear tonight’s song is supposed to _mean something_.”

“What are you talking about?” Derek narrows his eyes at her.

“You’ll just have to come and see,” Laura winks at him before getting up and walking to her bedroom.

Derek looks up at the ceiling and asks himself what he ever did to deserve a sister like Laura, and ignores the little voice in his head saying that he got _their entire family killed_.

He spends the next couple of hours debating with himself if it’s a good idea for him to show up and see what this is all about or not. And having Laura giving him quick glances as she gets ready to go out doesn’t help.

“Stop it,” Derek tells her as she keeps pretending not to be watching him as she brushed her hair.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Laura singsongs, smiling brightly at him.

“If I go,” Derek starts. “Which I don’t know if I am yet, it won’t be with you. So stop it.”

“Ugh, fine,” Laura rolls her eyes at him. “But I’ll let Danny know to keep the back entrance door opened for you in case you decide to show up. That way you don’t have to deal with the pressure of seeing Stiles again plus all of our friends giving you the stinky eye.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Derek says flatly, even though he feels kind of touched.

“I am a very generous person,” Laura nods as she grabs her purse. “And I have to go. We’ll talk all about whether you went to the show or not tomorrow morning, how’s that?”

“I’m not talking to you about anything,” Derek mutters under his breath as Laura waves at him over her shoulder and steps out of the apartment.

Derek is not going to admit it, but he sulks. He sits on the couch, eats the rest of Laura’s ice cream just because he knows she’s going to be mad about it, and he sulks. He already knows he’s going to end up making an appearance at Jungle, but that doesn’t mean he has to be excited about it. He’s dreading seeing Stiles because he doesn’t know what to expect of him. Stiles has always been good at doing the opposite of whatever Derek’s expected of him, and he has no doubts that tonight won’t be any different.

As Derek gets into the Camaro and drives to Jungle, he can’t help but feel a little hopeful, thinking that maybe things will work out. That no one will get hurt and he’ll get what he wants in life for a change.

The back entrance door is open when he gets there, and he makes his way past the dressing room and to the right corner of the stage without bumping into anyone. He makes sure he’s standing in a place where Stiles won’t see him when he gets up on stage, but he knows that if Stiles rakes his eyes over the audience like he usually does, it won’t be hard for him to focus on Derek.

It doesn’t take long for Danny to appear on stage and announce Stiles’ show, and Derek finds himself wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans and fighting the urge to just turn around and run as far away from here as possible.

Derek watches in rapid fascinating as Stiles walks on the stage, and takes a moment to appreciate how well Laura is at helping him become Foxy Red.

Stiles has on a red [dress](http://www.sequinqueen.com/product_image.php?imageid=207) covered in beads with fringes at the hem and a close-fitting collar that wraps around his pale neck, and he looks _gorgeous_. On his head is a black curly [wig](http://www.annabelleswigs.co.uk/bmz_cache/4/4e54cf817af8114cbb877fff699b0b74.image.313x418.jpg) that falls past his shoulder with bangs pushed to the side that frame his face nicely, calling attention to his bright red lips and gold dusting on his cheeks. As his fingers curl around the mic, Derek can see the gold glittery nail polish on his hands, and as he sits down on the piano bench on the stage, Derek’s gaze falls to the gold red glitter flames platform pump [heels](http://lghttp.17106.nexcesscdn.net/808773/magento/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/420x630/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/s/h/shoes-heels-bdel-teeze-27goldred.jpg) on his feet.

Derek’s eyes go to the piano next, and he’s a little confused as to what it’s doing there on stage. He glances back at Stiles only to find him sweeping his eyes over the audience as he chews on his bottom lip. Derek knows who he’s looking for, but he doesn’t make any moves to make himself seen.

As it turns out, he doesn’t need to.

Stiles’ eyes fall to Derek, and it’s like the entire world fades away.

“Hi,” Stiles says into the mic, his voice echoing over the club.

Derek raises his hand in a little wave, before dropping it to cross his arms over his chest. Stiles smiles a little at him and shifts on the bench so that his body is angled towards Derek.

“My mom taught me how to play the piano,” Stiles says, still looking at him. “That’s actually how my parents met. She used to play nights at a restaurant in town, and my dad came in once with a date,” Stiles stops and rolls his eyes as Derek raises an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, I know. Crazy, right? Anyways, he saw her there and he says it was like… it was like everything slowed down only to start up again, but a thousand times better because he knew she existed. He said that all it took was that one look at her and that was it, he was… he was captivated.”

Derek smiles softly at him, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. He can see how watery Stiles’ eyes are as he looks at him, and how he has to take a deep breath before he keeps going.

“So,” Stiles says, his jaw now set and a determinate glint in his eyes. “This is for you.”

Derek’s mouth goes dry as Stiles starts playing the piano, a soft melody echoing around the place.

Stiles’ eyes are still glued to Derek’s as his voice joins in, singing that _one look and I’m done, one glance from your eyes and I’m_[ _captivated_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WmeTn1YK9Pc). Stiles traces his tongue over his red lips as _the taste of your skin, the warmth of your hungry lips has me so taken_ , smiling warmly at Derek _and I love the way you can make me dance from miles away._  Derek follows the way Stiles’ body sways as he plays and sings that _when I’m with you I’m so sedated,_ stopping again when his eyes find Stiles’ face only to have Stiles tilt his head in Derek’s direction and say that _I’m captivated by you_.

Derek stays rooted to the spot as Stiles continues the song, neither of them ever taking their eyes off each other. Derek lets Stiles’ voice wash over him, the words leaving him with a warm feeling in his gut. Because this is Stiles telling him that they’ll be okay, that things will work out if they just take the time to fix it.

They’re fully grinning at each other when Stiles finishes off, not stopping to thank the audience as he hops off stage and walks towards Derek. Derek, who’s now feeling a whole lot more nervous and like he’s a second way from having his heart come out through his mouth.

“Hey,” Stiles says softly as he stops in front of him.

And Derek can’t do this.

At least not now, not here, not like this.

“Can I come over tomorrow?” Derek forces himself to ask. “So I can-”

“So we can talk?” Stiles finishes off when Derek doesn’t say anything else, just gulps.

“Yeah,” Derek croaks out.

“Are you okay?” Stiles takes a step closer, placing his hand flat over Derek’s chest.

“No,” Derek admits. “But we’ll talk tomorrow?”

Stiles opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but only bites down on his bottom lip and nods.

“Okay,” Derek nods at him. “See you tomorrow.”

Derek takes a step back and starts walking in the direction of the exit, only to stop when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns to find Stiles looking at him, eyes bright and face soft, and his entire body tenses as Stiles throws his arms over his shoulder and pulls him into a tight hug, pressing his face against the skin of Derek’s neck.

“Thanks for coming, bright eyes,” Stiles whispers, placing a kiss on a spot just below his ear before pulling back.

“You’re welcome, Foxy,” Derek says back, giving Stiles one final look before turning on his back and walks away.

He spends the entire drive home trying to commit to memory the feel of Stiles in his arms, his body pressed flush against his, his warm breath ghosting over his skin.

And as he gets home and slides into bed, he wonders if that was the last time he’ll ever feel it again.

* * *

Derek is going back to New York.

He stares at Stiles’ door and thinks that there’s no way he can do this. It was a dumb idea to ever get involved with him in the first place, and he curses his sister’s ability to make him feel guiltier than he already did and make him agree to come back to Beacon Hills.

Because this is him they’re talking about, and nothing good ever happens to one Derek Hale.

He should know.

So he continues to stare at Stiles door, his heart beating so fast he thinks he’s about to have a heart attack, and he thinks he should just go pack up all his things and drive off into the sunset and never look back.

And then Stiles opens his door and stares at him with his huge golden eyes and curls his soft lips in a small smile, and promptly ruins all of Derek’s plans.

“Hi,” Stiles says, stepping back to let Derek in.

“Hey,” Derek greets back, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep him from reaching out and pulling Stiles into a hug.

“C’mon,” Stiles tilts his head at him. “I made cupcakes.”

Derek’s lips twitch into a smile as he follows Stiles into the kitchen. On top of the counter is a tray with strawberry and lemon cupcakes, and Derek doesn’t even wait for Stiles to offer him one before he’s picking one up and taking a bite.

“I see someone missed my baking skills,” Stiles points out, biting down at his lower lip when Derek’s eyes snap to his.

“That wasn’t the only thing I missed,” Derek admits, because if he’s really going to do this, if he’s really going to tell him, he’s going to be honest about everything else too.

Derek watches as Stiles takes a deep breath and narrows his eyes at him, setting his jaw before grabbing a cupcake for himself.

“Living room,” is all Stiles says as he walks away.

Derek gulps as he steps into the living room, seeing Stiles decided to sit on an armchair instead of the couch. He presses his lips together as he sits down, keeping his gazed locked on Stiles’ face.

They don’t say anything for a few seconds, just stare at each other, until Stiles rolls his eyes and waves his hands in front of him in a ‘go on’ gesture.

“I’m ready,” Derek blurts out, and mentally cringes at his poor wording choice.

Stiles just stares at him with raised eyebrows, his expression torn between amusement and confusion.

“I mean,” Derek tries again. “I’m ready to tell you about… everything.”

Stiles stares at him for a second or two before saying, “You know you don’t have to.”

Derek shakes his head, “I want you to know. It was always my intention to tell you, but I just…”

“You thought you had more time,” Stiles says, and Derek fights a smile at the way Stiles keeps finishing his sentences.

“Yeah,” Derek sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“So this is about Kate.”

Derek snorts a humorless laugh at that, shaking his head at Stiles, “Understatement.”

“You’re not in love with her, are you?” Stiles asks quietly, staring at his hands.

Derek is kneeling in front of him two seconds after that, taking Stiles’ hands in his and squeezing them tight.

“I don’t love her,” Derek tells him. “If I don’t have anything to do with her for the rest of my life, it’ll still be too soon.”

Stiles looks at him, his face pale and his lips red from worrying at them with his teeth.

“What did she do to you?” Stiles whispers, shoulders slumping as he stares at Derek.

Derek closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, concentrating on the feel of Stiles’ hands in his, telling himself that as long as Stiles is here, he can do this.

“I met Kate when I was sixteen,” Derek starts, his gaze now focused at the wall behind Stiles’ right shoulder. “I used to work part-time at an art supplies store and she used to come in every once in a while to buy something. Sometimes she would stay and we talked, other times she’d just get whatever she came for and wink at me and leave. But whenever we did talk? It was like… it was like she was seeing _me_ , and not just some dumb kid who didn’t know anything, like what I was saying _mattered_ to her.”

Derek stops and runs a hand through his hair, swallowing hard before he keeps going.

“She left me her number scribbled on a five dollar bill about two months after we first met, telling me to call her whenever I was ready to make a move,” Derek says, pressing his lips together. “We started dating about two weeks later, and I felt like I was on top of the fucking world because there I was, and there she was, with _me_ , and she was beautiful and older and she made me laugh and it was the easiest thing in the world to fall in love with her.”

“How old was she?” Stiles asks softly, and when Derek turns to look at him he can see the apprehension on Stiles’ face.

Derek drops his eyes to the ground as he says, “Twenty-three.”

“Fuck,” Stiles curses under his breath. “ _Derek_.”

“Things were great the first couple of months we were together,” Derek keeps going, ignoring the iron grip Stiles has on his hands, because if he stops, he’ll never get this out. “My parents didn’t know about us because of the age difference, and when I asked Kate if she was fine with waiting to tell everyone about us until I turned eighteen she said it was okay. But a while after that she started acting different, more possessive towards me.”

Derek stops and takes a deep breath, still avoiding Stiles’ gaze as he continues.

“It was little things at first, like sending me random texts asking me about where I was and what I was doing, who I was with, and asking if I had met anyone new in school. Then it jumped from her wanting to spend more time with me, and getting mad when I said I couldn’t because I had to work, or study, or do something with my family. Sometimes she’d stop by the store or outside of my house when no one was around to check in on me, to make sure I was where I was supposed to be,” Derek says, shaking his head. “After that…”

“You don’t have to do this,” Stiles whispers when Derek trails off. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“After that, I think she started following me around,” Derek starts, clearing his throat before he goes on. “I had a cousin, Alexis, she was fifteen. Laura was supposed to drive her to one of her dance lessons, but she had detention after class and asked me to do it instead. Kate called me on the way there, asking me where I was.”

“You lied,” Stiles says, and Derek still refuses to look at him.

“I told her I was on a grocery run with my mom,” Derek nods. “When we met that night, she was… she was _pissed_ , screaming and going on and on about how I was lying to her, how I was seeing other people behind her back, how I was _hers_ and I had no _right_. I tried to tell her Alexis was only my cousin, but she wouldn’t listen. She kept saying that I couldn’t see Alexis ever again, that I had to _promise_ , otherwise I would _regret it_. So I did, I promised. I told her I wouldn’t see a member of my own family ever again, even though I knew I would because she fucking _lived_ with me.”

Derek can hear the bitterness and anger on his tone as speaks, the _guilt_ , and by the way Stiles starts rubbing circles with his thumb over the back of Derek’s hand, Stiles can hear it too.

“I didn’t know what Kate meant back then,” Derek says, his voice dropping lower. “By me _regretting it_. So even though I was scared, I didn’t think twice when Laura asked me to drive Alexis to dance again. I was just more careful on the way there, taking the long way there, being more aware of my surroundings.  Or at least I thought I was.”

Derek stops again, his eyes filling with tears, because this is it.

“What happened?” Stiles asks, his voice wavering.

“My entire family burned to death,” Derek rasps out, feeling sick to his stomach as the words come tumbling out of his mouth.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, his grip on Derek’s hand going slack.

And that is it, right there, what Derek is most afraid of, of Stiles rejecting him after he found out what Derek did. But he’s not going to stop until he gets it all out, because now that he started, he needs to. He needs to explain everything that happened, up until the end.

“When I got there after work the entire house was burning,” Derek says, getting up from his place kneeling in front of Stiles to flop down on the couch again, resting his head on his hands. “There were police cars everywhere, and the fire department, but all I saw was Laura on the ground, wrapped in a blanket and rocking back and forth. I don’t remember much of what happened after I got to her. How long we stayed there, or who came to talk to us, or anything. But I remember this sick twisted _feeling_ in my gut that _she_ did this. That this was what she meant and she said I would regret it.”

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles says, and even though Derek is not looking at him he can tell Stiles is crying.

“It was my fault,” Derek whispers, shaking his head. “No one knew about Kate and me. They didn’t know what or who to look for when it happened and I couldn’t tell them because I kept it a secret. There was no one to back up anything I said because I was the one who insisted on keeping it a secret. The best they would be able to do was say she stopped by the store sometimes, but we were always so careful about it, _no one knew_.  If it hadn’t been for me everyone would still be-”

“But they said the fire was an accident,” Stiles interrupts him, his voice shaky and unbelieving.

“I went to her apartment a couple of days after it happened,” Derek tells him. “Her father was there, and most of her things were gone. When I asked him where she was he told me he sent her away, to spend some time with their _family_. I told him he couldn’t do that. That she had to. That they couldn’t,” Derek presses the palm of his hands against his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “He told me he had no idea what I was talking about. That he didn’t even know who I was, that Kate had never even mentioned me to him, and that he doubted any of her friends or the rest of their family had heard of me.”

“And no one would believe you,” Stiles mutters under his breath.

“And no one would believe me,” Derek nods. “So, see? It was all my fault.”

“ _No_ ,” Stiles interrupts him, and he sounds so heartbroken and angry that Derek ends up looking up at him.

Stiles’ face is pale and his eyes are red, his lips swollen from worrying at them with his teeth while Derek spoke, his cheeks stained with tears. And he’s staring at Derek like he doesn’t know whether to hug him or beat the shit out of him.

“What?”

“God, Derek,” Stiles says, grabbing Derek’s face and forcing them face to face. “This is. This is _beyond_ fucked up, and it’s horrible, and I wish it never happened to you, and I want nothing more than to call Allison and hunt her aunt down and _kill her_ , and then call my dad and tell him all about it and make him help me hide the body, but I can’t do any of that until you accept that this is _not your fault_.”

“You can’t do that,” Derek says, eyes wide. “You can’t tell him.”

“I,” Stiles shakes his head. “What?”

Derek’s hands come up to close around Stiles’ wrists, “You can’t tell your father.”

“Derek, he needs to know,” Stiles says. “He can help. He can make so this never happens again to any-”

Derek watches as Stiles’ face drops, his mouth parts and his eyes widen even more.

“Jungle,” Stiles says, breathing a little fast. “She did that. That’s why she left early. She saw you and she. Oh my _god_.”

Derek presses his lips together, keeping his grip on Stiles’ wrists tight.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Derek pleads. “No one knows about this.”

“What do you,” Stiles looks at him, and he looks so fucking _devastated_ all Derek wants to do is wrap him in a blanket and take him to bed and never let him get out.

“I never told anyone this before,” Derek gulps, letting go of Stiles’ wrists to drop his hands on his lap.

Stiles makes a strangled noise at the back of his throat and pulls Derek close to him.

Derek is so stunned for a minute that he doesn’t move or do anything, just lets Stiles wrap his arms tight around his shoulder and bury his face against Derek’s neck. Derek can feel the tears running down his collarbone, the rapid beat of Stiles’ heart against his chest, and the warm puffs of breath against the skin of his throat. He brings his hands up to snake them around Stiles’ waist, and moves them around until Stiles is sitting on his lap.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he can hears Stiles whisper as he hugs Derek tighter. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Derek says, voice hoarse and face wet with tears.

“It’s not your fault, either,” Stiles says as he pulls back, lips trembling as he  cups Derek’s jaw between his hands. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I fell in love with her,” Derek says, closing his eyes.

“That’s not your fault,” Stiles says forcefully, resting their foreheads together. “You can’t help who you fall in love with. And you’re not responsible for another person’s actions just because you love them. What happened to your family was not your fault.”

Derek lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and as Stiles angles his head and brings their lips together, Derek almost believes him.


	5. Act Five: Raise Your Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles claims Jungle back and Derek claims Stiles' ass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had such a hard time writing this chapter and a part of it is so cheesy and a little bit out of character but for the life of me i couldn't figure out a way to make it better so omg pls don't hate me ~

Things between Stiles and Derek don’t immediately get better.

In fact, it all pretty much stays the same, only they stop avoiding each other in favor of spending most of their time together and making out on Stiles’ couch.

Stiles is still determinated to make Derek believe that everything that happened to his family was a hundred percent not his fault.

That mostly consists of Stiles repeatedly telling Derek that Kate was sick, that there was no way he could have predicted she would react the way she did, and thus her burning his entire family to death is not his fault.

But no matter how many times Derek hears it, it still doesn’t stop him from feeling guilty, and he is still feeling uneasy about having Kate around town, near his and Stiles’ friends.

And that’s why conversations like this happen a lot in the next couple of weeks.

“You’re acting all weird again,” Stiles says as he comes up behind Derek and wraps his arms around Derek’s waist.

Derek can’t help but tense at that, relaxing only a little when Stiles slides one of his hands up Derek’s shirt and traces the skin on his stomach lightly with his fingers.

“Stiles,” Derek says, tilting his head to the side so Stiles can kiss up his neck and down his shoulder.

“You are,” Stiles murmurs against his shoulder. “You have to use your words, bright eyes. And not just shut me off again.”

Derek sighs and pats Stiles’ arm, turning around so they’re face to face.

Stiles is smiling softly at him, but Derek can see the concern lingering in his eyes, so he leans in to rub their noses together.

“I’m worried,” Derek admits, resting their foreheads together.

“I know _that_ ,” Stiles huffs, his breath ghosting over Derek’s lips. “I just wish you’d talk about it instead of suffering in silence and _brooding_.”

“I don’t brood,” Derek frowns.

“Of course _that’s_ what you’re focusing on.”

“ _Stiles_.”

“I wish you’d let me talk to my dad,” Stiles says quietly.

Derek shakes his head, pulling back and stepping out of Stiles’ arms. Telling Stiles everything that happened was already a huge step for him, and he knows he won’t be able to handle telling other people, at least not now.

He hears Stiles sigh as he goes back to trying to figure out the mess of clothes on top of Stiles’ bed.

His job of finding something for Stiles to wear tonight is not going well.

Danny had called them earlier that week to let them know that the dressing room was done, and now that he felt like he finally got Jungle back - as opposed to when he opened the doors while the room was still in construction- he decided on throwing a re-opening party and asked Stiles to grace them with their presence and perform. Stiles, obviously, said yes.

And now Derek has to come up with something for him to wear while worrying about whether or not Kate is going to try to burn them all alive again.

“Tell me what tonight is about,” Derek asks him, eyeing the piles of dresses on top of the bed.

“I already told you,” Stiles rolls his eyes as he pushes some clothes around and flops down on the bed.

“Tell me again,” Derek huffs, throwing a pink dress at Stiles’ head.

“It’s about never being anything but yourself,” Stiles says, picking the dress up and folding it. “You know, raising a glass to who you really are and all of that.”

Derek makes a thoughtful sound at the back of his throat and goes back to staring at what’s in front of him. He tries to think about all the little things that make Stiles who he is, and how the fuck he’s supposed to translate that into clothing, when something catches his eye. At first he thinks Stiles accidentally threw in one of his t-shirts with the dresses when he was narrowing down his options, but as he reaches a hand and picks it up, unfolding it in the process, he sees it’s not the case.

Derek holds up the long-sleeved skin-tight white [dress](http://www.asos.com/Lazy-Oaf/Lazy-Oaf-x-Batman-Exclusive-Bodycon-Dress-In-Logo-Print/Prod/pgeproduct.aspx?iid=2423984) with Batman icons and prints all over it, and raises an eyebrow at Stiles, who merely shrugs.

“It’s Batman,” Stiles says. “I had to buy it.”

“Did you ever wear it?”

“Haven’t had the chance to,” Stiles shakes his head. “Which is a shame because dude, it’s _Batman_.”

“You should wear it tonight,” Derek says, the corner up his lips tipped up.

“You think so?” Stiles asks, considering.

“Tonight is about being yourself, isn’t it?” Derek says, throwing the dress at Stiles who catches it with one hand. “I doubt I’ll find anything here that’s more you than the Batman dress.”

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times before saying, “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Derek snorts a laugh and watches as Stiles gets up from the bed to go look for shoes. He comes back with a pair of black platform [sandals](http://www.selfridges.com/en/Womenswear/Categories/Shop-Accessories/Shoes/Sandals/Heeled-sandals/Gen-platform-sandals-black_923-10004-2300800209/), and Derek can’t help but smile a little at him when he sees it.

“You get to paint my toenails again,” Stiles beams at him, waggling the sandals in front of Derek’s face before dropping them on the ground.

“What a joy,” Derek deadpans.

“ _Please_ ,” Stiles rolls his eyes, leaning closer to Derek and whispering in his ear. “You _love_ it.”

Derek brings one of his hands up to cup the side of Stiles’ face, angling his head before crashing their lips together, nipping at Stiles’ lower lip before licking his way inside. They stay like that for a while, Stiles’ arms around Derek’s waist, one of his hands up Derek’s shirt and his nails raking lightly over his skin, while Derek thumbs at Stiles’ jaw and cheeks.

Stiles pulls back to hide his face against the side of Derek’s neck, pressing kisses to the skin there. Derek scratches at Stiles’ scalp, enjoying the way Stiles relaxes against him.

“We need to get going,” Derek says quietly, tugging at Stiles’ hair.

“You got the makeup box?” Stiles asks, leaning in and pecking Derek on the lips before pulling back and going to zip the dress in a plastic cover.

“Yeah,” Derek says, picking up the box from one of Stiles’ nightstands.

“Just let me get the shoes and backpack and we’re good to go,” Stiles says as he walks around the room and does just that.

“You’re not taking a wig?” Derek asks when Stiles hands him the plastic cover with the dress.

“Not this time,” Stiles smiles at him. “Which means you’ll have to do something with my hair.”

Derek blinks at him before saying, “That wasn’t the deal.”

“The deal is that you’ll help me prep,” Stiles points a finger at him, raising an eyebrow. “This is prepping.”

“I’ll give you prepping,” Derek mutters under his breath, lips curling up when he hears Stiles laugh.

“Maybe later,” Stiles winks at him. “But now we have to go.”

Derek spends the entire drive to Jungle staring at Stiles, or more precisely, his _hair_.

Derek knows his options are limited because it’s not like Stiles has that much hair for Derek to work with, so he has no idea what he’s supposed to do with it. He considers asking Stiles to blow him so he can wave his fingers through it as he fucks his mouth, leaving his hair wild and sticking up all over the place, but he doesn’t think Stiles’ will go for it.

At least not just before he has to go on stage and sing and dance in front of people.

Danny meets them at the back entrance like he always does, smiling at both of them as he lets them through the door.

“It’s good to be back,” Stiles says as he steps forward and pulls Danny into a hug.

“It’s good to have you back,” Danny laughs, patting him on the back. “Now go get ready, Foxy. You have people waiting.”

“Yes, sir,” Stiles smiles at him before turning to Derek and taking his hand. “Let’s go make me pretty, babe.”

Derek stops himself just in time before he says the words _you’re already pretty_ , because he knows Stiles would never have let him live it down. And he would tell Laura and she would be even worse.

The new dressing room looks much like the old one before it burned down. The tables shoved against the wall, big mirrors covering half the place, and chairs and free hangers spread around the extent of it. 

Stiles hands the dress and drops his backpack on the floor while Derek places the makeup box on top of one of the tables. Stiles flops down on one of the chairs, taking of his hoes and pulling his pant legs up, wiggling his toes as Derek sits down in front of him and pulls Stiles’ feet over his lap.

“What color do you want?” Derek asks, tracing his fingers under the sole of Stiles’ feet and making him squirm.

“Black for my toes and yellow for my hands,” Stiles says, grabbing his backpack from the floor and rummaging through it until he comes up with two bottles of nail polish.

Derek takes it from him and places the yellow one on top of the table by his side, and goes to work on Stiles’ feet with the black bottle.

“You really like doing this, don’t you?” Stiles asks when Derek moves from his right foot to the left.

“It’s still painting,” Derek shrugs. “And you don’t look bad with nail polish on.”

“That was totally what got your attention, wasn’t it?” Stiles says, and Derek can hear the amusement in his voice. “When we first met? My chipped blue nail polish made you want to get all up on _this_.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Derek says flatly, refusing to look up from painting Stiles’ toenails.

Stiles leans forward and rests his chin on top of his bent knees, tapping Derek on the forehead until he huffs and finally looks up, only to find Stiles smiling softly at him, his eyes glinting.

“I like it,” Stiles says after a few moments of them just staring at each other. “I like that you like this part of me. I like that you embrace it and help me with it. And I especially like it that it turns you on.”

“You look good with your nails done,” Derek shrugs, the tips of his ears reddening a little at the admission.

“I also look great in a dress,” Stiles adds, grinning. “And fucking _fantastic_ in panties and heels, if I do say so myself.”

“True,” Derek nods, leaning in to kiss him softly on the lips. “You also look good with lipstick on. And with your eyes lined.”

“You really like the whole thing, huh?” Stiles murmurs against his lips.

“I like you,” Derek says, taking in the way Stiles’ eyes widen and his entire face softens before he ducks his head and his cheeks flush. “I also like it when you get shy on me.”

Stiles snorts a laugh as his blush deepens, “Shut up.”

“Really,” Derek teases, kissing the tip of Stiles’ nose. “Flustered is a good look on you.”

Stiles scrunches his nose up and shakes his head before his expression gets serious again, his eyes raking over Derek’s face. Derek does nothing but stare right back at him, trying to memorize the lines of his face, his upturned nose, the curve of his lips, the light in his eyes.

“I like you too, bright eyes,” Stiles says quietly, bringing a hand up to trace the skin under Derek’s eye. “A lot.”

“Good,” Derek says, turning his head so he can kiss Stiles’ palm. “Now let me go back to painting you.”

Stiles places a kiss on the corner of his mouth before pulling back and wiggling his toes again, “Go crazy.”

Derek takes his time finishing off Stiles’ feet and starting on his hands with the yellow nail polish, nipping at Stiles’ knuckles when he’s done. He watches intently as Stiles strips and slips into his dress, the fabric clinging to his body as he moves, and puts on his sandals. His eyes are glued to the sway of Stiles’ hips as he walks back to where Derek is, stopping in front of him and getting a hand on the back of Derek’s neck, bending over to kiss him soundly on the lips before sitting back down on the chair.

Derek gets up to work on Stiles’ face, painting his lips with the familiar dark red lipstick and using a lot of black eyeliner and black eye shadow on his eyes. It’s not until he’s staring at the finished product of Stiles in makeup and a dress that he finally decides what he wants to do with Stiles’ hair.

“Do you have hair gel?” Derek asks, running his fingers through Stiles’ hair. “And a comb?”

Stiles only arches an eyebrow at Derek before sticking his hand inside his backpack and coming up with a tube of hair gel and a comb. He offers it do Derek, who takes it and starts brushing Stiles’ hair back, slicking it with gel.

By the time he’s done, he merely curls his lips up in a smirk before grabbing one of Stiles’ wet wipes from the makeup box and cleaning his hands. Stiles gets up from the chair and stares at his reflection in the mirror, tilting his head to the side and raking his eyes up and down his body.

“It’s like you just keep getting better and better at this,” Stiles says, turning on his heels so he’s facing Derek.

Derek feels a little rush at having to tilt his head up to be able to look at Stiles.

He probably likes having Stiles loom over him a bit too much, not that he’s going to admit to any of it.

And not that he needs to, with the way Stiles’ eyes glint as he steps closer, leaning down so he can brush his lips against Derek’s cheek and leave behind a red lipstick mark.

Stiles traces his thumb under the mark and smiles, “Now we’re ready.”

They say their goodbyes at the edge of the stage, Derek leaning in to nuzzle at Stiles’ jaw and whisper _good luck_ in his ear, while Stiles rubs their noses together and tells him to go find their friends.

Derek is tense as he walks to where Laura is standing, but relaxes a bit when he can’t see anyone but their usual group in front of the stage. At the same time that’s he’s relieved that Kate is not here, he’s also worried because that means she’s planning something. Something that’s good enough to pass on the opportunity to come here and taunt Derek in front of everyone he knows, especially when he wouldn’t be able to do anything in return.

Laura smiles up at him when he stops by her side, the others giving him nods and smiles as they see him.

The club is packed tonight, and Derek smiles a little when Danny comes up on stage and the crowd cheers as he announces Stiles’ show.

Stiles walks in like he owns the place, smirking and waving at people, stopping to blow kisses in Laura’s direction when she jumps and yells his name.

“Tonight,” Stiles starts, waving a hand so people quiet down. “We claim our Jungle back.”

Screams erupt in the crowd, people clapping and raising their arms in agreement, Derek almost getting elbowed in the face by Laura in the process.

“Tonight,” Stiles says again, turning his attention to Danny as Danny hands him a glass filled with what Derek thinks is Isaac’s cocktail. “We’ll raise our glasses to being different, being freaks, being nothing but _us_.”

Just as Stiles finishes the last sentence, the music starts.

Stiles flashes a smile to the audience and takes a sip of the cocktail, smacking his lips together as he starts walking across the stage and singing _right, right, turn off the lights, we’re gonna lose our minds tonight, what’s the deal, yo?_ He turns on his back and moves his hips, throwing _I love when it’s all too much, 5AM turn the radio up, where’s the rock and roll?_ over his shoulder.

He turns to face the audience again, singing _party crasher, penny snatcher_ as he walks across the stage and points fingers to people watching him. _Call me up if you’re a gansta_ , is directed to Laura, who just throws her head back and laughs. _Don’t be fancy, just get dancy_ , goes to Boyd, who shakes his head and proceeds to move as Erica throws her arms around his shoulders. _Why so serious?_ and Stiles is cocking an eyebrow at Derek until both of their faces break into a smile.

And then Stiles is raising his glass, splashing alcohol all over his arm and the floor as he continues singing _so_[ _raise your glass_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjVNlG5cZyQ) _if you are wrong in all the right ways_ , and the audience joins in, their hands up as they say _all my underdogs, we will never be never be anything but loud_ , and Stiles turns to Derek again, winking at him as he mouths the words _and nitty gritty, dirty little freaks_. Raising his glass up in the air again and moving his hips at _won’t you come on and come on and raise your glass, just come on and come on and raise your glass_.

Derek watches as Stiles continues dancing and singing, pausing only to take sips of his drink and interact with the audience. Everyone is singing and dancing to the music, raising their glasses whenever the chorus comes up. Derek can’t help but let a small smile pull at him lips as Laura grabs him by the shoulders and starts moving in front of him.

“C’mon, baby bro,” Laura says loudly, trying to make Derek move with her. “Dance with me.”

Derek rolls his eyes before taking Laura’s hand in his and spinning her around. As Laura laughs and twirls in front of him, Derek tries not to think about how they used to do the same thing when they were little. How they would dance around in the kitchen while their mom made breakfast and their dad read the paper.

He takes a deep breath as Laura bumps their shoulders together and concentrates on the now, the blinding lights coming off the stage, the loud music, his friends dancing around them, and Stiles shaking his hips as the song comes to an end and everybody cheers and claps.

Stiles waves a hand at Derek, pointing towards the dressing room and mouthing “meet me”. Derek nods at him before turning to Laura and kissing her on the forehead, letting her know where he’s going.

“Yeah, yeah,” Laura rolls her eyes at him. “Go have dressing room sex with your boyfriend.”

Derek shakes his head at her and makes his way backstage, leaning against the dressing door and staring at Stiles while he takes off his sandals.

“Hey, bright eyes,” Stiles smiles up at him. “Come here.”

Derek steps inside the room and closes the door behind him, sitting on a chair in front of Stiles and watching as he slips off his dress and lets it drop to the ground. They don’t say anything as Stiles slowly goes back to being himself, both of them happy to just glance at each other as he gets dressed again.

Once he’s in jeans and a tight red shirt again, Stiles walks up to Derek and straddles his lap, his hands resting against Derek’s shoulders. Derek just smiles softly at him as he grabs a pack of wet wipes and starts to wipe the makeup off of Stiles’ face, leaning in to kissing him softly when he’s done.

“So,” Stiles says, pulling back to stare at him. “I have to ask you something.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at him, “Okay.”

“You remember my dad, right?”

Derek blinks at him, “Is that what you really what to ask me? If I remember your dad? Your dad, _the Sheriff_?”

“Right,” Stiles says, licking his lips. “Of course you remember who he is.”

“Of course,” Derek says flatly.

Stiles scrunches his nose up at him before saying, “Do you also remember that my dad wanted me to invite you over to his house for dinner?”

Derek opens his mouth only to shut it back up with a snap. Because he does have a vague recollection of the Sheriff saying something along those lines, and he’s not sure if he’s ready to have someone threatening to shoot him in the ass if he ever hurts their kid again. Stiles must see the look of horror in his eyes because he bites at his lower lip and rests their foreheads together.

“You don’t have to,” Stiles says quietly. “But I’d really like it if you did. He would to.”

“He’s going to shoot me,” Derek says, his hands squeezing Stiles’ hips.

“I’ll protect you,” Stiles smiles a little.

“I don’t think that’ll stop him,” Derek tells him, earning a peck on the lips from Stiles.

“He knows I like you,” Stiles shrugs. “And that hurting you would mean hurting me too, and he’d never do that.”

“But I hurt you,” Derek whispers, swallowing hard. “Before.”

“You did,” Stiles smiles sadly at him. “And things between us are not perfect right now, but we’re both doing a fantastic job of trying to make things better.”

“You more than me,” Derek mutters under his breath, earning a small chuckle from Stiles.

“You make me happy,” Stiles says, placing light kisses all over Derek’s face. “That’s all that matters to him.”

“You make me happy, too,” Derek admits, smiling a little. “And I guess I’m going to have dinner with your dad.”

* * *

“You look like you’re going to throw up,” Stiles says, biting his lip to keep from laughing.

“Shut up,” Derek grunts, glaring at Stiles and smoothing his white button down with a shaky hand.

He’s glad Laura is not here right now, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle both her and Stiles making fun of him for being nervous about meeting the Sheriff.

“You’re going to be fine,” Stiles says, coming up to him and cupping Derek’s face between his hands. “I’ll stay with you through the whole thing.”

Derek continues to glare, only to have Stiles shake his head at him and pull him closer, pressing their lips together. Derek sighs into the kiss, relaxing against Stiles and opening up as Stiles licks at the seam of his lips and into his mouth.

Derek stops him when Stiles tries to get a hand under his pants, taking Stiles’ hands in his.

“I’m not having sex with you before we have dinner with your father,” Derek tells him, scowling.

“But, babe,” Stiles pouts, staring pleadingly at Derek.

“No,” Derek says firmly, taking a step back and letting go of Stiles. “And put the eyes away.”

“It would make you more relaxed,” Stiles points out, arching an eyebrow at Derek.

“It would make me feel _guilty_ when I have to look your dad in the eye during dinner.”

“He’d never know,” Stiles waves a hand, dismissing him.

“He’s the _Sheriff_ ,” Derek says, exasperated. “Knowing things is what he _does_.”

“Fine,” Stiles huffs. “But can we have sex when we come back?”

“If your dad doesn’t kill me before then,” Derek mumbles under his breath.

“He won’t,” Stiles tells him, coming up to peck him on the lips. “But we’re gonna be late if we don’t leave now.”

“Okay,” Derek nods, sucking in a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Derek spends the entire drive to the Sheriff’s house thinking about all of the ways he could _die_. Because he knows the Sheriff is not going to overlook how much he hurt Stiles by pushing him away, even though Derek came to his senses later and they both got back together and are in a relationship again.

That’s why he doesn’t get out of the car when Stiles parks in front of the house. He just sits there, thinking himself into a panic attack minutes before officially meeting his boyfriend’s dad.

“Babe,” Stiles says softly, bringing a hand up to rub circles against Derek’s back. “We don’t have to. I can turn the car around and go back to my place and we can order pizza and watch tv. It’s alright.”

Derek shakes his head, trying to control his breathing, focusing on the trail of warmth Stiles’ hand leaves against his skin.

“I’ve never,” Derek breathes in and out, and says, “I’ve never done this before.”

Stiles stays quiet for a few seconds before asking, “The meeting the parents thing?”

Derek nods, turning his head so he can look at Stiles, who’s chewing at his bottom lip.

“You did fine the first time you met him,” Stiles tells him.

“I was out of it the first time I met him,” Derek points out.

“Okay,” Stiles says. “Okay, how about we go in there and you meet him? And if you feel like you can’t do this tonight you let me know, and then we’ll get back in the car and drive home and do this some other time. What do you think?”

Derek blinks at Stiles before leaning in and pressing their lips together, “Okay.”

“Let’s go then,” Stiles says against his lips, smiling a little.

They step out of the car and walk towards the house, Stiles stopping in front of the door to fish his keys out of his pocket and unlock it.

“Dad?” Stiles calls out, closing the door behind them.

“Kitchen!”

Stiles turns around to face Derek, looking over his shoulder for a second before getting a hand on the back of Derek’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Derek is a little too stunned at first to respond, but opens his mouth when Stiles nips at his bottom lip. Derek pulls back sooner than he’d like to, but he doesn’t want to risk getting caught by the Sheriff.

“You alright?” Stiles asks him, running a thumb over the stubble on Derek’s jaw.

“Yeah,” Derek smiles a little at him, taking a deep breath before saying, “Now take me to meet your dad.”

Stiles snorts a laugh at him and takes Derek’s hand in his, twirling their fingers together and leading him farther into the house. The smell of food hits Derek’s nose as they enter the kitchen, making his mouth water.

“You cooked?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” the Sheriff scoffs, placing empty glasses on top of the counter.

“It’s not like you’ve done it a lot before,” Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know whether to be worried we’ll all die of food poisoning or be touched that you went through the trouble of actually _cooking_ something just because I brought my boyfriend for dinner.”

“Speaking of which,” the Sheriff says, giving Stiles a pointed look before turning his gaze on Derek. “Derek.”

“Sir,” Derek nods, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat.

Stiles squeezes the hand still in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of Derek’s hand. The little gestures does wonders to calm Derek down, who concentrates on the heat of Stiles’ skin against his. The Sheriff doesn’t miss the exchange, his eyes going from their hands, to Stiles’ face, and then back to Derek’s before his face softens and he offers both of them a small smile.

“Stiles, why don’t you go set the table while Derek and I talk?”

Stiles doesn’t answer his dad at first, choosing to turn and face Derek, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

“Go make sure the silverware is set right,” Derek tells him, offering him a smile.

“Don’t hesitate to yell for me if he brings out his gun,” Stiles says, leaning forward and placing a kiss on Derek’s cheek.

“I’m not going to shoot him, Stiles,” the Sheriff rolls his eyes, missing Derek breathing out a sigh of relief.

“You better,” Stiles says, narrowing his eyes at his dad. “Or I’ll make sure you’ll never eat bacon again in your life.”

“I’m your father,” the Sheriff says, affronted. “I gave you _life_.”

“Then you know what _not_ to do,” Stiles says, letting go of Derek’s hand to get the plates, silverware, and glasses on top of the counter. “I’ll just be… not here.”

“No eavesdropping,” the Sheriff looks pointedly at him.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Stiles smiles sweetly before turning on his heels and leaving both of them alone in the kitchen.

Derek shifts a little in place, keeping his gaze lowered to the ground.

“So,” the Sheriff starts, and he sounds so much like Stiles that Derek can’t help but twitch his lips in the ghost of a smile. “Derek.”

“Sir,” Derek nods, lifting his head up to stare at him.

“You hurt him,” the Sheriff says, expression blank.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” is all Derek says, because that is all he _can_ say.

If telling Stiles about Kate was like sticking a knife to his own heart and twisting it, he can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to explain to the man in front of him that he hurt his son because he thought he was protecting him. Because if he hadn’t kept his mouth shut ten years ago, none of this would have happened in the first place.

“You thought wrong,” the Sheriff says, and then sighs. “I’m not going to threaten you, because you obviously care about him.”

Derek drops his eyes to the floor again, because the Sheriff has _no idea_.

“Oh, _hell_.”

Or maybe he does.

“He is…,” Derek trails off, waving his hands helplessly in front of him. “He’s _Stiles_.”

The Sheriff stares at him, his face blank, before he asks, “Did you tell him how you feel?”

Derek opens and closes his mouth, settling for shaking his head.

Because in all honesty, he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He’s waiting for Stiles to realize that staying with Derek is too much trouble, that he’s too fucked up, that being in a relationship with him is not _worth it_. So Derek’s kept the fact that he’s head over heels in love  with him to himself.

The Sheriff sighs again, running a hand through his hair.

“You should,” the Sheriff tells him. “You should tell him. Because life’s too short to hide what you feel for someone, or to pretend otherwise.”

Derek notices the far off look on the Sheriff’s face, and remembers the day Stiles told him about his mother.

“I’ll think about it,” Derek says, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

The Sheriff tilts his chin up at Derek before pointing a finger at him and saying, “Don’t ever hurt him again.”

“I won’t,” Derek says, his tone firm.

When the Sheriff nods at him again, Derek thinks that this is it. He survived. No having to run for his life or have to worry about someone trying to kill him in case he fucks things up again.

“And if you do,” the Sheriff says, waving a hand in front of him. “I doubt anyone would find your body if I do decide to kill you.”

Derek’s eyes widen as the Sheriff gives him a stern look before letting his face break into a smile. Stiles decides to step back into the kitchen at that exact moment, stopping short when he sees his father’s face and Derek’s small smile in return.

“I take it everything’s okay,” Stiles says, staring from his dad to Derek.

“You won’t have to take away his bacon,” Derek shrugs, smile widening as the Sheriff lets out a chuckle.

Stiles stares at both of them before letting out a groan.

“You two are going to gang up on me, aren’t you?” Stiles says, frowning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” both Derek and the Sheriff say at the same time, smiling when Stiles curses under his breath and storms out of the kitchen.

“Come on, Derek,” the Sheriff says, clasping a hand over Derek’s shoulder. “Let’s go eat.”

Dinner goes by smoothly after that, with Stiles keeping the conversation flowing between all three of them. Derek finds himself relaxing more and more as he watches Stiles interact with his dad, so he shouldn’t be surprised when the Sheriff’s phone rings.

“Excuse me, boys,” the Sheriff says, smiling apologetically at them as he gets up and walks out of the living room, cell phone in hand.

Derek can faintly hear him answer the phone with a serious “Sheriff”, but his attention is focused on Stiles, who’s now staring at his plate, face closed off.

“Hey,” Derek says, taking Stiles hand in his. “It’s okay.”

“I know,” Stiles shrugs. “It’s just… Sometimes I wish we could have a normal family dinner, you know? Without the risk of him being called away in the middle of it.”

“It’s just his job.”

“I know that,” Stiles snaps, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’ve known that since I was a kid. Doesn’t mean I have to like it or that I don’t get disappointed when it happens, no matter how much I try.”

Derek rubs circles on the back of Stiles’ hand with his thumb but before he can open his mouth to answer the Sheriff comes back in, his face stony. Derek immediately goes into high alert, squeezing Stiles’ hand in his, making him startle.

“Dad?”

“I just got called in,” the Sheriff says, looking down at their clutched hands. “You boys better come with me on this one.”

“What happened?” Derek asks, getting up and pulling Stiles up with him.

“It’s the garage,” the Sheriff explains as they all step out of the house. “Someone was driving by and saw the smoke coming from the back room. I won’t know more until I get there, but it looks the same as the dressing room at Jungle.”

Derek stops, rooted to the spot, only moving when Stiles gets a hand between his shoulder blades and pushes him along.

“Are Boyd and Erica okay? And Isaac?” Derek hears Stiles ask as they stop in front of the Jeep, Stiles opening the passenger side door for Derek to climb inside.

“As far as I know, no one was hurt,” the Sheriff nods. “You’ll have to talk to them when we get there, though. Now let’s go.”

Derek barely registers anything about the drive there, the words _same as the dressing room_ echoing in his mind. He only snaps out of it when Stiles parks in front of the now-engulfed-in-flames garage and he sees Laura, her arms wrapped tightly around Erica.

He doesn’t hear Stiles call out his name as he jumps out of the car and jogs towards her, throwing his arms around her shoulders and hugging her to him. Laura lets go of Erica only long enough to hug him back, and then she’s back to squeezing Erica, trying to calm her down. Derek runs a hand over Erica’s curls to let her know that he’s here before he stands up and goes to Boyd and Isaac, who are standing a few feet away, talking to the police.

“You okay?” Derek asks when Boyd sees him, a bit of tension leaving his body when both Boyd and Isaac nod. “What happened?”

“We won’t know until the fire is out,” Isaac tells him.

“Erica forgot her jacket,” Boyd says. “We came back to pick it up when we saw the smoke, and by the time we got here someone had already called the cops.”

Derek can see the wetness in Boyd’s eyes, the way his jaw is set tight, and his fists clenched by his side. This was Boyd’s _life_ and it’s all gone now. It’s all gone because of _Derek_.

“I’m sorry,” Derek croaks out, resting a hand on top of Boyd’s shoulder, squeezing it.

“Not your fault,” Boyd shakes his head, and Derek dies a little inside because _it is_.

The three of them eventually move to stand beside Laura and Erica, Erica having calmed down only long enough to snuggle up against Boyd and cry silently against his chest. Derek’s heart aches at the sight of her like this, seeing as he’s used to the Erica who could probably take him with a hand tied behind her back on any day of the week.

Laura snakes her arm around Derek’s waist, resting her head against his shoulder. Derek twirls a strand of her hair between his fingers, just like he used to when they were kids, and he’s so focused on watching the firemen put the fire out that he almost misses Stiles pulling his dad aside when the Sheriff comes to talk to them.

Derek does catch the way Stiles rubs the back of his neck with a hand as he shuffles a little in place, his shoulder slumping as he talks to his dad. He also notices how the Sheriff sends a glance to where Derek and Laura are standing, and the way his entire expression closes off when he turns his head in the direction of the garage.

Laura looks up at him with a frown when she senses his body tense, and he only shakes his head at her when she opens her mouth to say something. She looks from Derek’s blank face to the flames and sighs, squeezing him tighter to her.

Derek doesn’t look at him when Stiles walks over and stops by his side, taking Derek’s hand in his and entwining their fingers together. 

They all stand there together until the last of the fire is put out, and then they just stare at what’s left of the garage. Derek’s gut twists as he sees Isaac throw an arm around Boyd’s shoulder, while Erica presses impossibly close to him. Laura steps out of Derek’s hold to hug Erica again, one of her hands coming up to rub circles against Boyd’s back.

Derek doesn’t feel it is right for him to be standing there with them, not when it’s because of him that this happened. The only thing grounding him and keeping him from turning on his back and running away is Stiles’ hand in his, but not even that is helping much. Not at the moment.

Stiles walks him back to the Jeep after the Sheriff tells everyone it’s best that they go home. Isaac hugs both of them and tells them he’s going back to Scott’s, while Laura kisses Stiles on the cheek and squeezes Derek tight and leaves with Erica and Boyd. Derek thinks it’s a good idea for her to be around them now, because if there’s one person there that’s qualified to deal with what just happened is Laura.

Neither Derek nor Stiles say anything as they drive back to Stiles’ apartment.

Stiles opens his mouth a couple of times as if he’s going to say something, only to think better of it and snap it shut again. And that’s a good thing, because Derek is not sure he can speak to him right now without screaming or wanting to punch something.

Things are silent and tense as Stiles unlocks to door and steps inside of the apartment, Derek close behind him.

The first thing out of Derek’s mouth as they get to the living room is, “You told him.”

Stiles has the grace to look sheepish for a moment before his face settles into a determinate look.

“Yes, I told him,” Stiles says, his tone firm.

“You,” Derek stops, running a hand through his hair. “You _told_ him. You told him after I specifically asked you _not to_.”

“Derek-”

“No,” Derek snaps. “Do you have any idea how _hard_ that was for me? To tell you about what happened?”

Stiles opens his mouth, his fists are clenched by his side, but Derek’s not interested. He’s too _angry_ to listen to anything he has to say right now.

“I’ve never told _anyone_ about what happened,” Derek says, staring straight at Stiles. “Not until you. My own _sister_ has no idea about any of it, and I’ve never had any desire or the guts to come out and say anything about it, not until you. I told you because I _trust_  you. I trust you to keep this between us, at least until I was ready to let other people know. But you couldn’t do that, could you? You had to go and tell your _father_.”

Derek is breathing hard by then, his hair sticking up at odd places from his running his fingers through it. And Stiles… Stiles is still staring at him, his face set and eyes glinting, and Derek doesn’t understand why _he_ is the one who looks mad.

“I had to go and tell my _father_ ,” Stiles says after a few seconds of them just staring at each other, his voice hard and angry. “Because this is not just about you anymore, Derek. Our friends are in danger because she keeps targeting the places you go to. Who’s to say she’s not going to try something at the library, or here? What’s if something happens to Laura, like it almost just happened to Boyd, Erica and Isaac? Like it almost happened to all of us that night at Jungle?”

“It was not your fucking _choice_!” Derek yells.

“Excuse me if I’m trying to look out for you, you asshole!” Stiles screams back at him.

“It’s not like I asked you to,” Derek snaps. “You did that to your own accord. I’ve never asked you for anything.”

“You don’t need to ask me, you fucking idiot!” Stiles shouts at him, his hands gripping tight at his own hair. “I did it because I fucking _love you_ , Derek, and not because I want _something_ from you.”

The entire world stops.

Nothing exists but the rush of blood on Derek’s ears and Stiles’ wide eyes as he realizes what he just said.

Stiles opens his mouth to say something, but Derek beats him to it.

“Shut up.”

And then Derek is walking to Stiles and grabbing him by the shoulders, taking advantage of Stiles’ surprised gasp to clash their mouths together and lick his way into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles is tense against him until Derek nips at his bottom lip, tracing his tongue over it before pulling back and staring into his eyes.

“What the fuck?” Stiles asks, the scowl on his face being ruined by how breathless he sounds.

“You said you love me,” Derek answers, pressing his thumb against Stiles’ pulse point.

“And you told me to shut up,” Stiles snaps, his body tense once more and his eyes narrowed.

Derek shakes his head, “That’s because you were going to take it back.”

Stiles gapes at him for a few seconds before saying, “What?”

“You said you love me without meaning to,” Derek says. “And when you realized it, you were going to take it back.”

Stiles blinks owlish at him, “What?”

“I don’t want you to take it back,” Derek whispers, leaning in and rubbing their noses together.

Stiles’ mouth drops open as his eyes go wide with understanding. They just stare at each other until Stiles rests his hands on Derek’s hips and relaxes against him, biting down on his lower lip and smiling softly at Derek before closing the space between them and kissing him chastely on the lips.

Derek watches him as Stiles slides his hand over Derek’s shirt, his nails scratching lightly over the skin of his back, his eyes raking over the lines of Derek’s face before focusing on his mouth. This time, when Derek leans in, Stiles opens up for him, moaning softly when Derek sucks gently at his bottom lip before tangling their tongues together.

“Bed?” Stiles asks, pulling back to pamper kisses all over Derek’s face.

Derek’s only response is to let his hands slide down to cup Stiles’ ass while he cants his hips forward, smiling wickedly when Stiles groans and drops his head against Derek’s shoulder.

“Definitely bed,” Stiles nods, pushing Derek in the direction of his bedroom with a hand on his chest.

Derek goes willingly, even letting Stiles push him unto the bed and climb on top of him without complaint. Not that having Stiles grinding his ass down slowly on top of his half-hard dick is a hardship. Especially when Stiles keeps licking and biting along Derek’s neck, worrying marks on the skin of his collarbone as he waves his fingers through Derek’s hair and _tugs_.

Stiles only stops kissing Derek long enough to get a hand on the collar of his own shirt and pull it off, helping Derek do the same with his. Derek’s back arches at the skin to skin contact, and he wastes no time in getting a hand on the small of Stiles’ back and flipping them over, smiling at the dazed-looking Stiles under him.

“Show off,” Stiles mumbles, running his hands along Derek’s arms before settling them at the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

Derek smiles against Stiles’ lips, those three little words echoing in his mind as he gets a hand between them and pops the button of Stiles’ jeans open. He lets out a chuckle as Stiles whines when he doesn’t make any moves to give him the friction he’s looking for, settling for tracing his fingers over Stiles’ ribs, stomach, collarbone.

He stares at the man in front of him and _aches_.

Because Stiles knows all there is to know about him. He knows all about the buried guilt, the past mistakes, the hurt of trusting someone and being betrayed. He knows all about it and he still _loves_ him.

He still loves _Derek_.

“You okay there?” Stiles interrupts his thought with a hand on Derek’s jaw, his thumb tracing the stubble on his cheek.

“You love me,” Derek whispers, because he’ll never get tired of saying this.

Stiles scrunches his nose up at him, “I might reconsider if you keep mentioning it and don’t get inside me soon.”

Derek closes his eyes at that, sucking in a deep breath before opening them again and staring down at Stiles. Stiles, who just looks back at him, his lips curled in a small smile, his face soft.

“You love me,” Derek whispers again, shaking his head.

He thinks about telling Stiles that the reason he keeps saying it it’s to make himself believe that it’s true. That someone could really love him, even after everything.

Stiles rolls his eyes at him and huffs, “If you don’t get moving soon I’m gonna do this without you.”

“You love me,” Derek says, smiling when Stiles looks up at him annoyed.

“Seriously, Derek, shut-”

Derek cuts him off with a kiss, and then he’s moving to mouth at Stiles’ jaw, kiss his chin, nip at the skin of his throat and bare shoulder. He lets his hand roam over the expanse of skin under him, pausing to tweak at Stiles’ nipples, smiling against Stiles’ skin when he moans and arches back into Derek’s touch.

Derek can’t help but follow the path of his hands with his mouth, not when Stiles keeps making this choked-up gasp sounds that go straight to Derek’s dick.

Stiles gets his fingers on Derek’s hair, his nails scratching lightly at his scalp as Derek makes his way down his chest, tugging a little when Derek licks a circle over his nipple before sucking it into his mouth. Derek uses one of his hands to brace himself against the bed while the other plays with Stiles’ other nipple, enjoying the way Stiles moves against him, as if trying to get closer.

Derek continues to ease down his body, stopping to suck a mark at Stiles’ hip, nose at his happy trail, and trace his bellybutton with his tongue. When he gets to the place Stiles desperately wants him to, it’s only so he can turn his head and rub his cheek against Stiles’ hard-on through his jeans.

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles moans. “If you don’t get my pants off in the next minute I’m going to _kill you_.”

“No, you’re not,” Derek says against the skin of his stomach. “Because you love me.”

Stiles only grunts on response, flicking him in the ear with his fingers when Derek doesn’t get a move on.

“Come _on_ ,” Stiles whines, squirming in place when Derek only chuckles at him.

“As you wish,” Derek says, pulling back to kneel between Stiles’ spread legs.

He keeps his gaze focused on Stiles and he pulls the zipper down, taking in his flushed face, red lips, and pupils blown wide.

He looks _gorgeous_ , and all Derek wants to do right now is get his mouth on him.

Derek hooks his fingers under the waistband of Stiles’ jeans and boxers, pulling them down when Stiles lifts his hips up to help. He rakes his eyes over Stiles’ naked body, licking his lips at the sight of him, his cock hard and flushed resting against his belly.

“Someone’s overdressed,” Stiles breathes out, raising at eyebrow at Derek and tilting his chin up at him.

Derek only smirks a little at him, getting up from the bed and going to work on unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down along with his boxers. He steps out of them and climbs onto the bed again, sprawling himself over Stiles’ legs, his breath ghosting over the head of Stiles’ cock.

Stiles makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat when Derek tongues at the slit, licking at the precome gathered at the tip. Derek stares at him as he wraps his hand around Stiles and starts jerking him off, taking in the way Stiles bites at his bottom lip while watching him.

“Want to hear you,” Derek says, dropping his head to suck at the soft skin of Stiles’ balls.

And just like that it’s like a switch was flipped, Stiles throwing his head back and moaning, fingers clutching at the bedspread and Derek’s hair as Derek licks at his shaft before swallowing him down. Derek takes a moment to pat his seventeen-year-old-self on the back for sleeping around as he relaxes his throat and takes Stiles in as deep as he can, and _swallows_.

“Fucking _hell_ ,” Stiles groans. “Fucking fuck, _Derek_.”

Derek hums around him, bobbing his head up and down, one of his hands splayed over Stiles’ stomach and the other cupping his balls.

Stiles keeps his grip on Derek’s hair, spreading his legs wider. Derek can feel the muscles of Stiles’ stomach twitch under his hand, and he knows Stiles is trying his best not to push his hips up and thrust into Derek’s mouth.

Stiles whines a complaint when Derek pulls off, letting the head of Stiles’ dick bump against his cheek, smearing it with precome and saliva.

“You can fuck my mouth,” Derek says, smirking when all Stiles does is gape at him and close his eyes. “If you want to.”

“If I want,” Stiles trails off, making a distressed sound before tightening his hold on Derek’s hair and positioning where he wants him.

Derek keeps his gaze steady on Stiles and opens his mouth, waiting.

“Fuck,” Stiles says again as he cups a hand over Derek’s jaw, his thumb at the corner of Derek’s lips as he starts moving in and out of his mouth.

Derek thinks that hearing Stiles groan whenever he hits the back of Derek’s throat is about the best sound in the world, and he’s a little bit disappointed when Stiles pushes his face away.

“Want to come when you’re inside of me,” Stiles pants when Derek looks up at him in confusion.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t come in my mouth right now,” Derek says, and he’s a little startled at how fucking _wrecked_ he sounds.

Not that he spends too much time thinking about it when all Stiles does is whimper as Derek goes back to sucking him off, faster and harder than before. It doesn’t take long before Stiles’ entire body tenses, his grip on Derek’s hair going painfully tight as he spills down Derek’s throat.

When Stiles pulls him up by the hair, it’s to lick away the come running down his chin and kiss him slowly and deep as Derek runs a hand up and down his stomach.

“Turn around for me,” Derek says against Stiles’ lips, tapping him lightly on the hip.

“But what about,” Stiles asks, gesturing to Derek’s hard on pressing against his thigh.

“I’ll come,” Derek says, placing small kisses on Stiles’ shoulder before biting at his earlobe. “Once I’m inside you.”

Stiles takes a shuddering breath before giving Derek a quick kiss on the lips and turning on his stomach, resting his head on his arms. Derek traces his fingers over his spine, licking a stripe up the back of Stiles’ neck up to his hairline, pausing to bite down at the skin just below his ear.

Derek pulls back so he can get the lube and condoms from the nightstand, placing them on top of the bed by Stiles’ hips. He goes back to kissing and nipping his way down Stiles’ back, breath ghosting over the pale skin of his ass.

Stiles shudders beneath him as Derek squeezes his cheeks, pulling them apart with his hands.

“C’mon,” Stiles urges when Derek just stares at him, bringing one of his legs up to expose himself further.

Derek’s mouth waters at the sight of Stiles like this, and he wastes no time in leaning his head down and licking a stripe over Stiles’ hole. He hears Stiles’ sharp intake of breath, followed by a moan as Derek continues to place open mouth kisses there, tonguing him open and pulling back a little to see the muscle shiny with spit.

Stiles wiggles a little bit in place, pushing his ass back against Derek’s face, “Stop staring at me and keep going.”

Derek snorts a laugh at that, blowing air through his mouth over Stiles’ wet hole in retaliation. But Derek does go back to eating him out, only stopping to grab the bottle of lube and pop it open, slicking his fingers.

He shifts on the bed to a more comfortable position, laying one hand flat to the small of Stiles back, his thumb rubbing circles over the skin. Stiles helps him out a little, reaching a hand down to cup the back of one of his knees, pulling his leg up closer to his chest.

“C’mon,” Stiles breathes out, looking over his shoulder at Derek. “Open me up.”

“You’re so bossy,” Derek mutters, tilting his head down to nip at Stiles’ left cheek, laughing when he lets out a small yelp.

Just as Stiles opens his mouth to complain, Derek traces one of his fingers over the ring of muscle, pressing it slowly inside. Stiles moans low in his throat, pushing his ass back on Derek’s finger, like having that little bit of Derek inside of him is the best fucking thing in the world.

So Derek takes his time stretching him open, scissoring his fingers and watching they slide in and out of Stiles, occasionally curling them upwards and making Stiles actually _whimper_.

His dick twitches at every choked-up gasp and moan that comes out of Stiles’ parted mouth, and by the fourth finger he just can’t _take it_ anymore.

“On your back,” Derek says as he pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the sheets before slipping the condom on and slicking himself up with lube.

“Hi,” Stiles says quietly as Derek braces himself over him, the corners of his lips tilting upwards when Derek kisses him.

“Hey,” Derek answers, smiling a little and rubbing their noses together.

Stiles gets his hands on the back of his knees and pulls his legs up to his chest, giving himself up for Derek to take, and Derek has to take a minute to not just _come on the spot_ and ruin this whole thing.

Derek settles Stiles’ legs over his shoulders, placing a kiss to the side of Stiles’ knee before reaching a hand down and lining himself up against Stiles’ entrance.

Derek watches as Stiles closes his eyes, his mouth parted and cheeks flushed red as Derek slides inside of him.

He looks _gorgeous_ , and Derek can’t help but tip his head down and kiss him again, open-mouthed and wet.

They stay like that for a few seconds while Stiles adjusts, just kissing, until Stiles gets one of his hands on Derek’s ass and pulls him closer, grinding his hips down on Derek’s cock.

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles breathes out, and Derek knows he’s going to have scratch marks on his ass when this is done. “Fucking _move_.”

Derek lets out a grunt before doing as he’s told, thrusting his hips in earnest and busying himself with sucking a mark over Stiles’ collarbone, kissing up his neck, biting at his earlobe.

Stiles has one hand on Derek’s hair, keeping him in place, while the other is still gripping firmly at Derek’s ass, urging him closer. But it’s not until Derek shifts a little in place that Stiles throws his head back, back arching as he lets out the filthiest sound Derek’s ever heard.

“I. Shit. Right _there_ ,” Stiles groans.

Derek tries his best to keep his hips angled just right, getting a hand between them and wrapping it around Stiles’ cock, jacking him off in time with his thrusts.

Or at least trying to.

Because it doesn’t take too long for his rhythm to falter, not with the way Stiles keeps tugging at his hair and biting at his earlobe and telling him to _go faster harder c’mon babe fuck me_.

Derek presses his face against Stiles’ neck and does exactly that, pulling back when he feels Stiles tense under him, crashing their lips together just before he spills all over Derek’s hand and their stomachs.

He feels Stiles spasm around him, making him so impossibly _tight_ that all it takes are a couple of rolls of his hips before Derek is biting down on Stiles’ shoulder and coming, too.

Stiles tugs at his hair when he makes no moves to get off of him, laughing a little when Derek only grunts in response.

“You need to throw the condom away and get us cleaned up,” Stiles tells him, his voice hoarse. “And I need to _breathe_.”

Derek huffs at him, kissing Stiles’ on the cheek before pulling off and going to deal with the condom, cleaning himself up and Stiles with a wet cloth.

When he gets back to bed is to snuggle closer to Stiles, who immediately presses his face against Derek’s neck, throwing a leg over his hips and an arm over his stomach.

Derek brings one of his hands up to play with Stiles’ hair, and before he knows it his face breaks into a smile, because Stiles _loves him_.

“You love me,” Derek says to the ceiling, smiling hugely.

Stiles snorts against the skin of his neck, murmuring, “Get over it.”

Derek just buries his nose on Stiles’ hair, “Me too.”

“What?” Stiles asks, entire body going tense.

“I,” Derek trails off, swallowing. “ _Me too._ ”

Stiles pulls back, propping himself up on an elbow so he can stare at Derek.

Derek, who just stares back at him and tries to convey in a look how utterly and completely head over heels _in love_ he is.

And then Stiles smiles, warm and bright and huge and _happy_ , and for the first time in a really long time, Derek feels like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.


	6. Act Six: Titanium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a ridiculous amount of glitter and cupcakes in this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i went a little tag crazy maybe possibly 
> 
> also, loofah is a really weird word

“’ve more minutes,” Stiles mumbles sleepily against Derek’s chest.

“Someone’s at the door,” Derek grunts, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Go answer it.”

“It’s your apartment,” Derek says, pinching Stiles in the ass.

“Hey,” Stiles yelps, flailing a little and almost elbowing Derek in the ribs.

Derek only grunts again in response, pushing Stiles off of him and turning on his side, burrowing deeper into the mattress as someone knocks on the door.

“Go answer the fucking door.”

“Fuck you,” Stiles says without any heat as he gets up from the bed and pulls on a pair of sweatpants.

“Maybe later,” Derek sighs, hitching a leg up and smirking to himself when he hears Stiles’ breath hitch.

“You know,” Stiles says, voice cracking a little. “I could get used to your naked ass waking me up in the mornings.”

Derek lifts his head up a little and looks at Stiles over his shoulder, smiling a little, “Me too.”

Stiles opens his mouth to answer, but someone knocks on the door again, and Derek lets his head fall back on the pillow as Stiles makes his way out of the room.

Derek can hear the faint tone of voices around the apartment as he tries to go back to sleep, wishing Stiles would just tell whoever’s at the door to get the fuck out and come back later so they can enjoy their morning in peace.

Much like they did last night.

Only maybe now Stiles could be the one doing _him_.

Derek squirms a little bit in place, images of having sex with Stiles playing in his mind. He’s about to bring his hand down between his body and the mattress to wrap around his half-hard dick when Stiles comes back into the room, closing the door behind him.

“My dad is here.”

And the mood is ruined.

“What?”

“My dad is here,” Stiles hisses, throwing a pair of pants and a shirt at Derek’s head. “So get your ass out of bed and get fucking _dressed_.”

“Why is he _here_?” Derek asks, entire body tensing up as he struggles to get his feet down one pant leg.

“I don’t _know_.”

“He’s your _dad_ ,” Derek points out, glaring at Stiles once he puts on his shirt.

“But I’m not his keeper,” Stiles snaps. “So stop looking at me like I killed your puppy, because I didn’t call him, and I have no idea what he’s doing here.”

Derek takes in Stiles’ angry stance, his fists clenched at his sides and his face set into a scowl.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s just…”

Stiles sighs and takes a step forward until he’s standing in front of Derek, his arms coming to rest against his shoulder, thumbs rubbing circles against his collarbone.

“I know,” Stiles says quietly. “I can totally kick him out if you want.”

Derek lets out a snort at that, shaking his head, “It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

Derek shrugs, “I figured I would have to do this sooner or later.”

“And you hoped it would be later.”

Derek only looks pointedly at Stiles, grabbing one of his hands in his.

“C’mon,” Derek says. “We shouldn’t leave him waiting.”

“He probably thinks we’re having sex,” Stiles says, unconcerned. “Or that I’m trying to help you escape so we don’t have to deal with him.”

Derek stops in his tracks and turns to look at Stiles, who only shrugs at him.

The Sheriff is waiting for them in the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Derek wearing Stiles’ clothes. Derek tries not to blush, but he can already feel the tips of his ears start getting hot.

“Boys,” the Sheriff nods before pointing in the direction of Stiles’ coffee pot. “There’s fresh coffee.”

“Thanks, dad,” Stiles says, grabbing two mugs from one of the kitchen cabinets and pouring coffee for himself and Derek.

“Thanks,” Derek tells him quietly when Stiles hands him the mug. “And thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” the Sheriff says, lips twitching up a little. “Why don’t we sit down for this?”

Derek swallows around a lump in his throat, grip tightening around his mug. He glances at Stiles, who’s staring at his dad with this lips pressed in a thin line, before nodding and walking towards the living room.

The Sheriff takes the armchair, and Derek tries to fight back a smile when Stiles flops down on the couch next to him, their sides pressed flushed.

“So, dad,” Stiles says, narrowing his eyes. “What a surprise to have you here.”

“This way I knew both of you would be here,” the Sheriff shrugs.

“We could have been busy,” Stiles tells him.

“I don’t want to know,” the Sheriff raises a hand.

“Then call next time,” Stiles smiles sweetly at him.

“I’m here on police business,” the Sheriff says sternly. “The police doesn’t call.”

“It’s okay,” Derek rests a hand on Stiles’ knee, squeezing it gently when Stiles opens his mouth to say something.

“You sure?” Stiles asks, turning to look at him. “I know I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s okay,” Derek says, because it kind of is.

He’s still not totally on board with having Sheriff Stilinski know about what happened to him, but he has to admit that Stiles was right.

Kate proved once again that she’s not above going after the people he cares about. As he watched Stiles sleep last night after saying that he _loved_ him, Derek realized he couldn’t risk Stiles getting hurt. He couldn’t risk any of their friends getting caught in the crossfire just because they made a little place in their lives for Derek.

It still doesn’t mean he has to like any of this, or to actually open his mouth to say anything about any of it.

“Derek,” the Sheriff says, the softness of his tone betraying his blank expression when it’s clear Derek won’t speak without being prompted. “My son has brought some things to my attention last night.”

“I know.”

“Some things might be related to the arson attempts on both Jungle and Boyd’s garage, am I correct?”

Derek glances at Stiles, who brings a hand up to rub circles against his back.

“Yes,” Derek gulps, twitching in place a little.

“Son,” the Sheriff says, and for the first time since they started this, Derek looks up at him. “I know this is not going to be easy, but I need to hear what Stiles told me from _you_ , with as much detail as possible. And I’ll also need to record our conversation, so it can be used later in case we need to.”

Derek sucks in a deep breath, rolling his shoulders trying to relieve some of the tension. He wraps his two hands around his coffee mug to keep them from shaking, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his legs.

“I can call Laura if you-”

“No,” Derek says, shaking his head at the Sheriff.

“I think it would be good for you to have-”

“She doesn’t know anything about it,” Derek explains, voice hard. “And I don’t want her to.”

“Derek,” the Sheriff tries again, only to be interrupted by Stiles this time.

“Drop it, dad,” Stiles says, shaking his head at him.

The Sheriff lets out a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face before saying, “Alright. Whatever you think is best.”

Derek nods at him, trying to concentrate on the feel of Stiles’ hand against him.

The next couple of hours are spent with Derek telling the Sheriff as much as he possibly can bring himself to say about his relationship with Kate, the fallout, and her new appearance in his life. Derek doesn’t appreciate the way the Sheriff’s face grows darker and harder as he keeps going, especially when he mentions her knowing where he and Stiles live.

There is a lot of talk about _statutory rape_ and _possessive relationships_ and how this is _not your fault_ , and even though Derek felt apprehensive about sharing his guilt with people, he’s kind of glad he did it.

The Sheriff’s professional approach to it helps Derek get through the toughest parts, and Stiles’ hand on his back keeps him grounded as he relives the most painful memories in his life.

“Thank you for your help, Derek,” the Sheriff says, tilting his chin up at him and turning the recorder off. "I know it wasn’t easy for you to share what you did, and I appreciate it.”

“I don’t know how much of it will be of help,” Derek says, staring at the ground.

“I always thought there was something strange about what happened to your family,” the Sheriff offers after a few seconds of silence. “It’s good to know where to look now, and it’ll help a lot to have a lead in the recent cases.”

Derek shakes his head, “If I’d told someone sooner-”

“I understand why you didn’t,” the Sheriff says, voice firm. “You were a kid, and you were scared, and no one blames you, Derek. You’re not responsible for what she did, because she was the adult. She was the one who was supposed to know what was right and what was wrong, and she took advantage of you. What happened was _not your fault_.”

“Damn right,” Stiles whispers next to him.

Derek lets out a shaky breath and deflates, burying his head in his hands and snapping his eyes shut.

It’s like some of the weight has been lift off his shoulders, because if the _Sheriff_ doesn’t believe that what he did was wrong, then maybe there’s hope for him after all.

He can’t say that he’s not feeling guilty anymore or that he’ll ever stop feeling like what happened was at least part his fault. Derek thinks that opening up to Stiles and then sharing what happened to the Sheriff is the first step in the right direction, the first step towards _healing_.

Derek presses the heel of his hands against his eyes and takes a deep breath, and for the first time in a really long time, he thinks he’s going to be okay.

The Sheriff leaves without Derek noticing, and it’s not until he feels the press of lips against his neck that he tilts his head up.

“You okay?” Stiles asks softly, playing with the baby hair at the nape of his neck.

“I don’t know,” Derek says, and then clears his throat. “But I think I will be.”

“Yeah?”

Stiles is looking at him, eyes hopeful and soft, and Derek really believes it when he says, “Yeah.”

* * *

“We’re doing what?”

“A fundraiser,” Laura says, not looking up from the notepad she has perched on her knees.

“For Boyd’s garage,” Stiles explains when Derek only blinks at the both of them, confused.

“But the insurance…,” Derek trails off, frowning.

“Boyd was changing insurance companies when it happened,” Stiles informs him softly.

“Fuck,” Derek shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “ _Fuck._ ”

“Exactly,” Laura says, waving a hand in front of her. “And that is why we’re going to do a fundraiser, baby bro.”

Derek looks at her and thinks about what it would have been like to have their house burn down and have no money to put it back up again. He knows that business at the garage is good, but not to the point where Boyd would have all the money necessary to build another one up from the ground.

“What do you need me to do?” Derek asks, because damn him if he’s not going to work himself dry trying to help him.

“I was hoping you would ask me that,” Laura smiles up at him, eyes glinting.

“I set myself up for that one, didn’t I?” Derek sighs, staring pleadingly at Stiles.

“Yep,” Stiles says, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing. “And I’m not getting you out of it, bright eyes.”

“I regret every decision that has lead me to this,” Derek deadpans, eyes crinkling when Laura and Stiles both throw their heads back and laugh at him. “But really, what to you need me to do?”

“I need you to bartend,” Laura says, writing down on her notepad.

“Bartend,” Derek repeats, because that sounds easy.

“Shirtless,” Laura adds.

“And covered in glitter,” Stiles pipes up.

And _there_ _it is_.

“How is me shirtless and covered in glitter going to help us get money for the garage?”

“Babe,” Stiles says, shaking his head at Derek. “Your face alone would help us get money. You being shirtless and sparkly is only going to gets us even _more_.”

Derek blinks at him, “Thank you?”

“You’re hopeless,” Stiles shakes his head, stepping forward until he can cup Derek’s face between his hands. “You have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?”

Derek shrugs, because he never really thought much about how he looks. Sure, he likes to work out and stay in shape, but that has a lot more to do with the fact that he wants to stay healthy and distance himself from who he was when Kate happened than because he wants to _look good_.

“You two are disgusting,” Laura says, wrinkling her nose.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have someone to tell you how pretty you are all the time,” Stiles bats his lashes at her, smiling when her face only scrunches up more.

“What else are we going to do to raise money?” Derek asks, because he thinks _someone_ here should put them back on track.

“I’m gonna do what I do best,” Stiles says, letting his hands drop from Derek’s face and snaking his arms around his waist.

“You mean shake your ass?” Derek asks, throwing an arm around Stiles’ shoulder and pulling him closer.

Laura and Stiles just stare at him for a couple of seconds before bursting out laughing, Laura with her face buried on her hands and Stiles hiding his against Derek’s shoulder.

“Oh my god,” Laura chokes out. “That was _awful_.”

“It really was,” Stiles says, shoulders shaking.

“I hate you both,” Derek mumbles, the tips of his ears going hot.

“No, you don’t.”

“Not even a little bit,” Stiles says, lifting his head up a little so he can bite softly at Derek’s neck.

Derek groans softly, curling his body towards Stiles so they can be pressed chest to chest.

“No sex noises while I’m in the room,” Laura says loudly.

“So it’s okay if we’re quiet?” Stiles asks while Derek nuzzles his cheek.

“No,” Laura says vehemently, and then throws her pen at Derek’s head when he starts sucking a mark on Stiles’ throat. “Stop that.”

Derek pulls back to glare at her, turning to frown at Stiles when he disentangles himself from Derek’s hold and sits down next to Laura.

“Tell me what you have so far.”

“Danny already said we could have Jungle for a night,” Laura tells Stiles, and Derek flops down next to him to listen to what she has to say. “He said we can get all the profits from drinks and part of the tickets.”

“So that’s why,” Derek muses out loud.

“Yes,” Laura nods. “That’s why you, Isaac, and Danny will handle the drinks without any shirts on.”

“Oh,” Stiles says excitedly. “More eye candy.”

“Hey,” Derek protests, frowning at him.

“Don’t worry, babe,” Stiles says, resting his head back against Derek’s arm and looking at him. “I only have eyes for you.”

“Damn straight,” Derek mutters before leaning forward and kissing Stiles on the lips.

He pulls back before he’s ready to when Laura whacks them both in the head with her notepad, saying, “We have work to do.”

“Alrighty,” Stiles says, angling his body so he’s laying half on top of Derek’s chest and half on top of the back of the couch. “What else?”

“You’re going to perform, but that’s a given already,” Laura says, waving her hand in front of her. “So I was thinking if maybe you could bake? Allison and Ms. McCall said they can help you, because let’s be honest, if you say yes that’s going to mean _a lot_ of cupcakes. And then we can make Scott sell them along with drinks, with me and Allison supervising.”

“Only if we get to rope him into wearing pink frilly [panties](http://discreettiger.com.au/image/cache/data/Knickers%20and%20Briefs/DTS00150-e/Sheer%20baby%20pink%20frilly%20knickers%20front%20view%20-%20stamped%20500x302-600x600.JPG) and pink and white stripped [stockings](https://img.costumecraze.com/images/vendors/leg/6316-White-And-Pink-Satin-Bow-Garter-Top-Striped-Thigh-Highs-large.jpg) while he’s at it,” Stiles says, lips spreading into a wicked smile. “And _heels_.”

Laura just blinks at him, expression blank, “I think that can be arranged.”

“Then I’m game,” Stiles says easily, relaxing more into Derek.

“Your mind scares me sometimes,” Derek says to the side of Stiles’ head, only to feel his back shaking in silent laughter.

“Please,” Stiles answers, low enough that Laura can’t hear. “You thought that was hot.”

Derek only hums in response, because he kind of _did._

They continue to talk about what kinds of things they need to do to get the fundraiser going, Stiles telling Laura he’ll talk to his dad about getting the word out and maybe getting some officers to help out at the party.

“Oh,” Laura says, jumping a little in place. “Everyone is going to _love_ that.”

Stiles calls his dad, who congratulates him and Laura for taking the initiative to do something like this for one of their friends, and then tells him that the department would love to help them out with whatever they need.

“As long as it’s reasonable,” the Sheriff’s voice crackles through the speaker on Stiles’ phone.

“We were just thinking about having them help out at the party, sir,” Laura says, tapping her pen against her leg. “Maybe in uniform?”

“I think we can do that,” the Sheriff says. “And it’ll be good to have some people there, myself included, in case something happens.”

Stiles and Derek sneak a glance to each other, while Laura just hums in agreement and says her goodbyes.

The next couple of weeks are filled with meetings and making lists and checking off items and making sure everyone knows what needs to be done to surprise Erica and Boyd with the fundraiser.

On one particular afternoon, Derek finds himself alongside Scott, getting his chest _waxed_.

“I don’t want to do this,” Derek grimaces as Laura parks in front of the salon.

“At least you’re only going to do your _chest_ ,” Scott whines from the backseat. “I’m gonna have to do my entire _legs_.”

“Just think about how smooth and pretty your skin is gonna look afterwards,” Laura smiles at them as she turns the ignition off and gets out of the car.

“I hate your sister,” Scott says over his shoulder as he follows her out.

“You and me both,” Derek mutters under his breath.

Derek is kind of glad they don’t have to wait long for their appointment, because that way he doesn’t manage to think himself out of his entire thing.

He keeps chanting _this is for Boyd_ in his head over and over again as he takes off his shirt and lies down, swallowing hard as the wax is spread over his skin and a strip is placed over it.

Derek doesn’t yelp when the strip is pulled off, not matter what Laura tries to tell people.

He _doesn’t_.

He also doesn’t get down on his knees and blows Stiles against the bathroom counter first thing when he gets home. Because whoever manages to go through that every two weeks without complaint deserves as many orgasms as they can get.

And he absolutely does not nod at Scott in sympathy the next time they see each other three days later as they help Stiles and Allison get all the cupcakes into their cars, and they totally don’t bond over the experience of having their hair ripped out of their bodies.

“If I knew that getting waxed was all it would take for you and Scott to be buddies, I would have made you guys do it sooner,” Stiles says as they load the cupcakes into the backseat of the Camaro.

“Don’t you dare,” Derek grunts, trying to balance the boxes in his arms.

“And you’re still going to deny that all the sex we’ve been having has something to do with the fact that you now appreciate all the trouble I go through to keep myself baby smooth for you?”

“You don’t do it for me,” Derek points out. “You do it because of Foxy.”

“We’re still denying it then,” Stiles clicks his tongue, taking the last box out of Derek’s arms and arranging them on the backseat.

Derek shuts the door of the Camaro and crowds Stiles against it, leaning down to nose at his jaw before whispering against his ear, “Thanks for doing it, Foxy.”

Stiles chuckles, bringing one hand up to trade his fingers through Derek’s hair, “You’re welcome, bright eyes.”

Derek angles his head to press their lips together, close-mouthed and chaste.

“We better get going,” Derek says against Stiles’ lips. “We still have a lot to do.”

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs, letting his forehead drop against Derek’s shoulder. “I still have to cover you up in glitter, too.”

“What?”

“Like I would pass that opportunity up,” Stiles says, lifting his head up to smile at Derek.

“Why do I feel like this is payback for something?” Derek mumbles, looking up at the sky and wondering why he loves Stiles so much.

“It’s not,” Stiles rubs their noses together. “Payback was having you wax your chest for me.”

“You’re saying I didn’t need to?”

“Oh, no, you needed to,” Stiles shakes his head. “But if I got a twisted sense of satisfaction out of it, no one needs to know.”

“I don’t know why I was ever interested in you,” Derek looks at him fondly.

“Like you could ever resist me,” Stiles bats his lashes.

Derek shakes his head and kisses Stiles one more time before stepping back.

“See you later?”

“Yep,” Stiles nods. “I’ll stop by in a couple of hours to help set everything up and then set myself up.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at him, “Do you pay attention to what comes out of your mouth?”

“I pay attention to what _comes_ in my mouth,” Stiles winks at him.

Derek snorts at that, getting in the driver’s seat of the Camaro, “Are you going to need my help to _set yourself up_?”

“No,” Stiles says, leaning down to look at Derek through the window. “Laura will be there to help me get in drag while you serve drinks to men who aren’t me and get hit on.”

“The travesty,” Derek says flatly.

“You know it,” Stiles nods seriously, before leaning forward and pecking Derek on the lips. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Derek says as he waves goodbye at Stiles before driving out of the parking lot.

As soon as Derek gets to Jungle and unloads boxes upon boxes to Allison and Scott’s charge, he gets roped into helping Danny and Isaac set up the bar and make sure they have everything they need for the night.

At some point the Sheriff stops by with the number and names of the officers who offered to help with the fundraiser. He also steals a peanut butter cupcake from Scott, who’s too busy trying to get Allison to model the striped white and pink stockings he’s going to have to wear tonight to notice anything.

Just before he leaves, he asks Derek for them to talk somewhere alone, and Derek tries to ignore the sick feeling in his gut as he walks the Sheriff backstage and into the dressing room.

“Did something happen?” Derek asks as soon as he closes the door behind him.

“Fortunately, no,” the Sheriff shakes his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “But I still wanted to talk to you about the investigation. As much as I can, anyway.”

“Thank you, sir,” Derek nods, because he appreciates this.

Derek knows he’s mostly just doing his job to serve and protect, but it still strikes a chord to know the Sheriff is willing to keep him updated about everything.

“I don’t have good news,” the Sheriff starts. “As much as I’d like to tell you that we’re close to arresting Ms. Argent, I can’t.”

“I figured as much,” Derek says, swallowing hard.

“We don’t have any proof,” he continues. “We don’t have anything to tie her to what happened to your family or to Jungle and Boyd’s garage. You coming forward and sharing what you did helped, but it’s still not enough for a substantial case.”

Derek nods again, his fists clenching at his sides.

He’s basically hearing that she’s going to get away again. She’s going to get away with this unless something _bad_ happens, something to tie her to all the bad that already _did_ happen.

“We’re pursuing the insurance fraud claims,” the Sheriff tells him. “We might be able to find something of help there, but it might take a while, considering it’s been ten years since it all went down.”

“I understand,” Derek sighs. “I don’t really know what I expected from all of this.”

“You don’t want the people you care about to get hurt,” the Sheriff says, smiling a little at him. “And I’ll do everything I can to help you with that.”

“Thanks,” Derek smiles faintly back at him.

“You’re welcome, son,” the Sheriff nods at him.

Derek is still getting used to being called _son_ , but he can’t help the way his stomach twisted every time it happens. It reminds him of his family, of belonging to someone other than himself, of being cared for and loved and _happy_.

“My son tells me you’re going to help out tonight?”

Derek snorts and rolls his eyes at that, grateful for the change in subject.

“Like I have a choice,” Derek mutters, making the Sheriff laugh. “Not that I wouldn’t help Boyd anyway, but…”

“When Stiles puts his mind to something, there’s no stopping him,” the Sheriff offers in understanding.

Derek nods, both of them smiling a little.

“Well,” the Sheriff says, clasping Derek on the shoulder. “I’ll be sure to stop by and see what you got yourself in.”

“Are you staying for the show?” Derek asks as they step out of the dressing room and back into the club.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” the Sheriff smiles proudly. “See you later, kid.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, frowning a little at being called a _kid_.

But he thinks that if anyone could ever get away with it, it would be the Sheriff.

Derek sighs and goes back to making sure Scott hasn’t eaten half of the food their supposed to sell that night, and next thing he knows it’s almost opening time and he has arms wrapped around his waist and lips attached to the back of his neck.

“Miss me?”

“No,” Derek deadpans, turning on Stiles’ arms so they are face to face. “You came to glitter me up?”

“Sadly, no,” Stiles sighs, leaning into Derek’s touch when he brings a hand up to rest against the side of Stiles’ neck. “I have to make sure Scott is dressed first.”

Derek scrunches his face up at the mental image, and then a little bit more when he realizes he’s going to have to stare at Scott in panties and stockings all night.

“You’re thinking about Scott in panties, aren’t you?” Stiles asks, and when Derek stares at him he looks so positively delighted that Derek takes a moment to wonder how he never saw how _evil_ Stiles was before he decided to go and _fall in love with him_.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Derek narrows his eyes at him.

“I take comfort in your pain,” Stiles beams at him before leaning closer and nipping at his bottom lip. “Now let’s make out before I have to go stare at Scott’s hairless legs.”

Derek shakes his head at him but complies, closing the distance between them and sucking at Stiles’ bottom lip gently before licking past the seam of his lips and into his mouth. Stiles presses his hands flat against the small of Derek’s back, pulling him closer as he sucks Derek’s tongue into his mouth, moaning softly when Derek gets a hand on his hair.

“Alright,” Laura says loudly, startling them enough to make them break the kiss. “Enough of that. We have things to do that don’t involve you two sucking face, so let’s get to it.”

“You’re no fun,” Stiles pouts at her before kissing Derek lightly on the lips. “I’ll come by in a bit to sparkle you up and cope a feel.”

“I can’t wait,” Derek says flatly. “You sure you don’t want me to help you get ready?”

“That’s my job tonight,” Laura says, poking Derek in the ribs and taking Stiles by the arm. “So say goodbye and let me get to work.”

“Bye,” Derek whispers against Stiles lips as he leans in for another kiss.

“I’ll be right back,” Stiles waves at him when Laura starts dragging him towards Scott and the dressing rooms.

He goes back to the bar to find Isaac and Danny shirtless, with Isaac’s entire front covered in glitter as Danny does his best to cover the skin on his back. Allison is perched on top of the bar counter, a small mirror in her hand as she dips her fingers on the body glitter and spreads it across her cheeks.

“I don’t even want to know how we’re going to wash this all off,” Danny mutters as he looks down at his hands and frowns.

“Feel free to take revenge on Laura,” Derek says as Danny wipes his hands on his naked chest and Isaac starts covering Danny’s back in glitter.

“Oh, I will,” Danny nods at him. “I’m planning on making her pay double for whatever she has to drink tonight.”

“Do you want me to help you, Derek?” Allison asks as she slides off the counter, smiling kindly at him.

Derek still feels a little weird being around Allison and talking to her, and he can’t really help himself from comparing her to Kate. But he makes himself focus on all the ways they are _different_ , with Allison’s carefree smiles and soft looks and the way she acts around Scott.

Because there’s no way anyone who’s head over heels in love with him can be a bad person.

“That’s okay,” Derek shakes his head at her and forces himself to smile, relaxing a little when it doesn’t take much.

“Stiles would probably try to maim you if you denied him the pleasure,” Isaac pipes up, earning a snort from Danny.

Allison chuckles a little and smiles up at them, dimples in full display.

“We wouldn’t want that,” she says, looking at Derek.

“No one would be able to deal with Scott’s hurt puppy look,” Derek nods at her, feeling himself more at ease.

“Did I hear someone say my name?”

They all turn to stare at Scott, and Isaac, Allison, and Danny promptly wolf whistle as they take in his bare chest, frilly pink panties, stripped stockings coming to mid-thigh, and heels.

Stiles stops by his side and smiles smugly at all of them, winking at Allison when he sees her biting down on her lower lip.

“Doesn’t he look _smokin’_?” Stiles asks, eyes glinting when all three of them nod.

Scott smiles shyly at them, gaze falling to the ground as he shuffles a little in place.

“You look really nice,” Allison says, coming to stand beside him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Yeah?” Scott smiles at her with a besotted expression on his face.

“Yeah,” Isaac says, eyes raking over Scott’s body.

Laura choses that moment to appear by Stiles’ side, clearing her throat loudly when it starts to feel a little awkward to have Isaac and Allison stare at Scott.

“Okay, well,” Laura side-steps Isaac and dips her hands in the body glitter, taking Isaac’s job and finishing up Danny back. “I can’t say I mind having to do this.”

“I’m flattered,” Danny says flatly. “But you’re not the one who’s going to be finding glitter in his _everything_ for the next couple of weeks.”

Derek shakes his head at his sister, turning to Stiles as he takes a step closer and stops in front of Derek.

“Take your shirt off,” Stiles says, tugging at the collar of Derek’s shirt.

“Aren’t you going to buy me dinner first?” Derek mocks, getting a hand on the hem of his shirt and pulling it up and off.

“Fuck,” he hears Danny say, followed by a smack when Laura slaps him on the shoulder.

“That’s my _brother_ ,” Laura hisses.

“That doesn’t mean that he’s not _hot_ ,” Danny says calmly back. “Sorry, Stiles.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles smiles at Danny, coming up to the bar and glittering his hands up. “It’s not like I’m ever letting him go, anyways.”

Derek’s lips twitch at that, his body going warm at Stiles’ words. He tilts his head to the side and leans in when Stiles gets closer, brushing their lips together as Stiles gets his hands on Derek’s chest.

Stiles meant what he said about copping a feel, letting his fingers linger around Derek’s abs, his bellybutton, the dip of his throat and collarbone, and his nipples.

Derek had to try very hard not to groan when Stiles let his nails scratch lightly at his left nipple while spreading some glitter over Derek’s chest, but by the way Stiles smirked at him, it must have shown in his face how much he just wanted to grab Stiles by the hips and bend him over the bar.

“I think we’re done,” Stiles says as he finishes tracing the swirls of Derek’s tattoo and places a kiss to the back of his head.

“You’re going to help me wash this off later,” Derek tells him as he looks down at his chest.

“Looking forward to it,” Stiles winks at him before kissing Derek on the cheek. “Now I have to go make myself pretty while you work your pretty little ass off.”

“Good luck,” Derek says, smiling at him when Stiles grabs hold of Laura and both of them walk back to the dressing room.

After that it’s _chaos_.

The doors open and in no time the club is full, everyone hearing about what happened to Boyd and wanting to help. The music is loud, people are dancing and drinking, and Derek thinks that if someone tries to feel him up one more time he’s going to break something.

The cupcakes are going fast, with Scott drawing attention to himself as he shakes his hips to the music and swings his arms up. He waves at whoever comes closer, and Derek has to admit to be a little impressed at the way he manages to up anyone’s orders just by flashing a smile.

Danny steps out of the bar when Boyd and Erica arrive, leading them to the stage and sitting them at the red couch he made Isaac and Derek drag up there. He gets the mic and greets everyone, telling them about how most of the profits earned tonight will be given to Boyd so he can get the garage back up.

The surprise in Boyd’s face as he hears that makes it worth it for Derek to have most of his upper body covered in glitter, and he can’t help but smile when he sees Erica jumping up and down and throwing herself at Danny, getting glitter all over the front of her dress.

They keep a steady supply of Isaac’s infamous cocktails and Stiles’ cupcakes coming towards Boyd and Erica, not letting them get up to do anything but dance.

The Sheriff appears about a couple of hours later in jeans and a dark shirt, taking a seat near the bar, two cupcakes in hand, and raising an eyebrow at Derek when he comes to serve him.

“I take it this is Stiles doing,” the Sheriff says, pointing a finger to Derek’s glitter covered chest.

Derek nods at him before asking, “What will you have?”

“A beer is fine,” the Sheriff says, turning to look at the stage before glancing back at Derek again. “When is he coming up?”

“It should start in a few minutes,” Derek says, placing the beer in front of the Sheriff. “We’ll know when Laura stops by.”

The Sheriff nods and takes a bite of one of his cupcakes, sliding the other one in Derek’s direction.

Derek raises an eyebrow at him in silent question, only to have the Sheriff wave a hand at him.

“You’ll need all the strength you can get,” the Sheriff says, eyes raking over all the people at the bar trying to get drinks.

“Thanks,” Derek tilts his chin up at him, taking the cupcake and almost eating the entire thing in one bite.

Laura appears about ten minutes later, sitting by the Sheriff and waving an arm in front of her until Derek makes his way towards them.

“I have orders to charge you double for anything you drink tonight,” Derek says as soon as he’s within earshot, smirking a little at Laura’s outraged face.

“Who would _dare_?” Laura narrows her eyes at him, ignoring the Sheriff chuckling by her side.

“Danny,” Derek says. “Payback for the glitter.”

“It wasn’t even my idea,” Laura protests, waving her arms in front of her.

Derek shrugs at her, not feeling even a little bit bad about resting the blame on her shoulders and not Stiles’. Mostly because Stiles has the power to deny him sex while the most Laura could possibly do is make his life hell; like she does _every single day_ , anyway.

Laura huffs an annoyed breath and goes to find Isaac, and Derek can hear her indignant squeak when he also tells her to pay double.

Derek and the Sheriff only look at each other and shake their heads, both following Danny with their eyes as he steps out of the bar again.

“Stiles?” the Sheriff asks, turning his entire body on the stool so he can face the stage.

“Yeah,” Derek nods, making sure to get the last orders before closing the bar during Stiles’ performance.

Stiles struts through the stage, stopping to kiss Boyd and Erica on the cheek before taking the mic from Danny and facing the crowd.

Derek rakes his eyes over Stiles’ body, taking in Stiles’ silver crystal stone bodysuit and matching bolero hood [jacket](http://www.charismatico-dancewear.com/products/Charismatico-Asymmetrical-Silver-Crystal-Stone-Bolero-Hood-Jacket-with-Bodysuit.html), the clothes sparkling as the crystals catch the light every time he moves. He’s not wearing a wig, the hood pulled up over his short hair, framing his face and calling attention to his heavy black lined eyes.

Derek feels strangely disappointed when he finds out he can’t really see if Stiles is wearing nail polish from his spot at the bar, so he settles for admiring the nude style pumps platform [heels](http://i00.i.aliimg.com/wsphoto/v0/539555698_1/free-shipping-Promotion-2012-Daffodil-Lady-Nude-leather-red-bottoms-hottest-style-pumps-platform-high-heels.jpg) he has on. He doesn’t think he’d ever get over seeing Stiles in heels.

The Sheriff mumbles something that sounds a lot like _that’s my boy_ , and Derek busies himself with taking a sip of his beer, trying not to laugh.

“So,” Stiles starts. “I was gonna come up here and do a speech and be inspiring and thank everyone for coming here tonight to support Boyd and maybe cry a little bit while I’m at it,” Stiles mocks sniffs at that when people laugh. “But I changed my mind. Tonight we’re gonna celebrate being _alive_ , and getting back up and someone tries to bring us down, just like these two beautiful people sharing the stage with me.”

Derek smiles softly at that, his eyes moving from Stiles to Erica and Boyd.

Boyd is shaking his head, but Derek can see the full-blown smile on his face, his eyes glinting as he stares back at Stiles. Erica clutches tightly to one of Boyd’s arms while her other hand rests against her collarbone, and even from the distance Derek can see her eyes are wet with tears.

The Sheriff clears his throat and shifts a little in place, and when Derek turns his gaze to him, he sees the Sheriff with his eyes glued to his son, a proud look on his face.

The music starts just as Derek glances back at Stiles, and like any other time Derek saw him perform, he’s instantly mesmerized.

Stiles closes his eyes when the beat starts up, tapping his heels against the stage floor to the rhythm of the music. _You shout it loud, and I can’t hear a word you say_ has Stiles opening his eyes and his hips rolling slowly with the words. Stiles shakes his head as he mouths _I’m talking loud, not saying much_. One of his hands comes up to grab at his hood as _I’m criticized, but all your bullets ricochet_. And he smirks along with _you shoot me down, but I get up._

He wrenches his hood down and spreads the arm not holding the mic up as _I’m bulletproof, nothing to lose_. And Derek can see Erica singing along _fire away, fire away_ with her eyes closed, Boyd joining in as _ricochet, you take your aim, fire away, fire away._ Stiles lowering his arms and the mic as everyone joins in, singing, _you shoot me down, but I won’t fall, I am_[ _titanium_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRfuAukYTKg) _._  Even the Sheriff mumbling the words the second time around as everyone throws their arms up and dance.

Derek rests his elbows on the bar counter and his head in his hands, his eyes glued to Stiles’ for the entire duration of the performance.

Everyone claps and cheers when the song ends, Erica and Boyd coming to Stiles’ side and hugging the living hell out of him. He takes off his jackets and slips it over Erica’s shoulder, pulling the hood up over her head and smiling, fist bumping Boyd before waving goodbye and hopping off the stage.

Stiles walks straight to the bar, smiling and throwing his arms around his dad as soon as he sees him.

“You did good up there,” the Sheriff smiles at him as Stiles flops down on a stool next to him.

“Thanks, dad,” Stiles beams at him.

“Well,” the Sheriff says, nodding at both of them. “I’m going to go make sure Scott doesn’t trip on his heels and breaks his neck.”

Stiles snickers at that and waves goodbye at his dad, turning around and leaning over the bar to get a hand on the back of Derek’s neck and pull him in for a kiss.

“Want some help?” Stiles asks when he pulls back, tilting his head to the swarm of people trying to get to the bar.

“That’d be good,” Derek says, rubbing their noses together before helping Stiles up and over the bar.

They spend the rest of the night serving drinks with Stiles still in drag, selling cupcakes, and getting hit on. 

Or they were getting hit on until someone tried to grab Derek’s ass while he turned his back to get a bottle of vodka and Stiles swooped in. Stiles got a hand on Derek’s arm while the other wove into his hair, angling his head to the side so Stiles could get his teeth on skin, biting down on his neck before tracing his tongue over the mark and finally mashing their lips together.

Word gets around that unless people wanted to deal with one pissed off and possessive drag queen, they were better off staying the hell away from the scowl-y bartender covered in glitter.

Derek absolutely does not spend the rest of the night with a half-smile on his face, and discretely adjusting himself whenever Stiles’ gaze lingers on him.

He also doesn’t almost make Stiles crash the Jeep on the way home when he gets a hand down Stiles’ pants.

Not that Stiles doesn’t make him pay when they get home, crowding him against the front door of his apartment as soon as they get inside, biting his way up Derek’s neck and covering his clothes in glitter.

“I don’t know why I ever thought this was a good idea,” Stiles mumbles as he looks down at his now sparkly shirt.

“It’s because you get to help me wash it all off,” Derek says, raising an eyebrow at him and pulling his t-shirt off slowly, letting it drop to the floor by his side.

Stiles’ eyes zero on Derek’s chest, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip as he brings a hand up to trace the speckles of silver glitter clinging to Derek’s chest, stopping just short of the hickey on Derek’s neck.

“We should,” Stiles says, clearing his throat when his fingers ghost over the mark he put there just a few hours earlier. “We should take this to the bathroom.”

“We should,” Derek agrees, keeping his eyes on Stiles’ face, watching him as Stiles presses his finger more firmly against the mark and gulps.

“Fuck,” Stiles curses, looking a little dazed as he drops his hand. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He gets a hand around Derek’s wrist and leads him to the bathroom, letting go once they’re inside so both of them can start getting rid of their own clothes.

Derek gets naked first, moving to turn on the shower and let the water warm as he waits for Stiles to step out of his jeans.

Stiles steps closer to him, bumping his shoulder against Derek’s chest when he reaches a hand out to test the temperature of the water, deeming it warm enough as he gets his other hand around Derek’s wrist and steps under the shower head, dragging him along.

As much as both of them and their half hard dicks would like for this to go somewhere involving both of them getting off in the end, the way the glitter continues to stick against Derek’s skin when the water washes down on him puts a damper on their plans.

“I’m never getting you covered in glitter again,” Stiles sighs as he grabs his loofah, covering it with his body wash and getting to work on scrubbing Derek’s chest.

“It was for a good cause,” Derek says as he frowns down at Stiles’ hand, trying not to grimace as the loofah scratches his skin.

About forty-five minutes later Derek is glitter free, his skin marked red and irritated due to all the scrubbing. He takes his time toweling himself dry, frowning at his reflection in the mirror when he gets a good look on his chest and back.

“I have some lotion we can put over that,” Stiles smiles apologetically at him, kissing his shoulder.

Derek makes a face at that, only agreeing to it when his skin starts getting even redder.

And he probably should have known that Stiles straddling his ass while spreading lotion over his skin would have led to this.

This being him on his hands and knees on the bed with Stiles draped over him, Stiles’ cock bumping against his ass while he traces the triskele on Derek’s back with his tongue, one of his hands playing with Derek’s dick and the other pinching his left nipple.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Stiles murmurs against the skin of his back, licking and nipping at Derek’s skin.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek whines, bucking into Stiles’ hand and desperately wanting him to tighten his grip and stop _teasing_.

“Yeah, babe?” Stiles says, shifting in place so he can mouth at Derek’s neck and bite at his earlobe before sucking it into his mouth.

“Just,” Derek grunts, pushing his ass back against Stiles and making him groan, his grip around Derek’s dick going even slacker. “ _Do something_.”

“Okay,” Stiles croaks out, and Derek can hear him gulp. “Okay.”

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Derek mutters under his breath.

“Hey,” Stiles protests, smacking him on the ass and making him yelp. “You know you can’t rush _perfection_.”

“I don’t want _perfection_ ,” Derek grunts. “I just want to _come_.”

“Then stop pushing me,” Stiles says, kissing Derek on the shoulder on more time before letting go of his dick completely and pulling back. “We were doing just fine before.”

“This is the opposite of what I wanted,” Derek says, looking over his shoulder at Stiles. “And we weren’t. You weren’t doing _anything_.”

“I was getting to,” Stiles glares at him, looking around the bed for something.

“Not fast enough,” Derek mumbles.

“You know what,” Stiles says, stopping what he’s doing to stare straight at Derek. “One of these days I’m gonna tie you up to the bed and take my time with you, tease you until you can’t _take it_ anymore. Until you’re a sweaty incoherent horny as fuck _mess_ just _begging_ me to make you _come_.”

Derek opens his mouth to say something, but all it comes out is a low moan, his dick twitching at the mental image of what Stiles just said.

“Fuck,” Stiles groans, bringing a hand down to palm himself. “Okay, okay.”

Derek lets his gaze drop from Stiles’, his eyes snapping shut as he hears Stiles shuffle on the bed until he finds what he’s looking for.

He feels Stiles settle himself behind him again, Stiles’ dick bumping against his thigh as he gets in place, one of his hands coming to rest against Derek’s hip.

“Bring your legs together for me,” Stiles says, and Derek can hear the pop of the lotion bottle being opened as both of them move on the bed so Derek can do as he’s told.

Derek lets out a breath at the first contact of Stiles’ hand, cool and slicked with lotion, spreading the liquid between his thighs.

“You look great like this,” Stiles murmurs.

He places light kisses over the expanse of Derek’s back as he moves to trail the lotion over Derek’s balls, cupping them in his hands and chuckling when he hears Derek groan.

Derek whines when Stiles pulls back, looking at him over his shoulder biting down on his lower lip when he sees Stiles slicking himself up.

He listens as Stiles snaps the lid close again, shivering in anticipation as Stiles place himself fully behind Derek again, urging his thighs closer together with a hand.

Both of them hiss at the sensation of Stiles pushing himself between Derek’s legs, Stiles letting his forehead drop against Derek’s back as he reaches a hand under them, wrapping his fingers around Derek’s cock.

It takes them a few tries to get a good rhythm going, both of them too worked up to sync the roll of their hips at first. Especially Derek, with the head of Stiles’ cock bumping against his balls every other thrust or so and Stiles thumbing at the slit of Derek’s dick, spreading precome over the head and his shaft.

Stiles’ other hand is everywhere, moving from Derek’s hips to trace the tattoo on his back, the bumps of his spine, the cleft of his ass. Stiles keeps touching him as he cants his hips forward, letting out gasps and whimpers and low moans that go straight to Derek’s dick.

Derek grinds back against him, letting his head fall against the pillows as he gets one of his hands to join Stiles’, lacing their fingers together as Stiles’ jerks him off.

The surprise of having Derek’s hand on his own makes Stiles shift a little on the bed, making Stiles’ cockhead bump _just right_ behind Derek’s balls as he starts thrusting again.

The new angle does fucking _wonders_ for Derek as he speeds the pace of their hands on his dick, pressing back against Stiles, who drapes himself over Derek’s back again to bite at his shoulder.

The pressure of blunt teeth against his skin, Stiles’ fingers wrapped tightly around him, and Stiles’ dick pushing against the skin of his balls with purpose has Derek’s entire body tensing.

Derek comes with a gasp, spilling over his and Stiles’ fingers and down on the bed. He hears Stiles curse over him, feels him pulling back a little and take his jizz covered hand from around Derek, listens to the slick sound of flesh and come and lotion as Stiles jacks himself off. Stiles follows him not soon after, coming over the back of Derek’s thighs and his ass, flopping down sideways on the bed as Derek lets himself sprawl face down on top of it, moving only to fall away from the wet spot.

They’re both breathing hard, their bodies loose and spent and sweaty, Derek wrinkling his nose when he wiggles a bit and feels come running down his ass.

“I’m gonna have to clean you up, won’t I?”

Derek looks back at Stiles to find him staring at the mess he made of Derek’s legs, lips pursed.

“You did make a mess,” Derek says, bringing a hand to cup Stiles’ cheek when he huffs.

Stiles turns to him, tilting his head down to kiss Derek on the nose before moving down to his mouth. Derek opens up for him, letting Stiles take whatever he wants from him as Stiles presses their lips together, sucking at Derek’s bottom lip before licking his way into Derek’s mouth.

“Be right back,” Stiles says, pecking Derek one more time before getting up from the bed.

Derek sighs and smashes his face against the pillow, hearing the faint sounds of water as Stiles cleaned himself up, and then Stiles’ footsteps as he walks back to the bed.

Stiles noses at his hairline before starting with the cleanup, snorting when Derek grunts a little at the feeling of the wet cloth against him skin.

“There,” Stiles says, smacking Derek’s ass with one hand. “All done.”

Derek grunts again, wiggling in place to make himself more comfortable while Stiles goes back to the bathroom and throws the dirty towel in the sink.

He really shouldn’t be that surprised when Stiles lays down on top of him instead of on his side of the bed when he gets back, worming his arms under Derek’s ribs to lay his hands flat over Derek’s chest.

“I’m not your own personal pillow,” Derek mumbles as Stiles nuzzles a spot behind his ear.

“You love me,” Stiles says. “Being my own personal pillow is in the job description.”

“I don’t remember signing up for that,” Derek lips curl up a little at the warm feeling inside his gut of having Stiles say that.

“You should have read the tiny print,” Stiles says, kissing Derek on the shoulder. “That’s what gets you every time. You might have even sold me your soul and you wouldn’t even know about it.”

Neither of them says anything after that, and Derek is pretty sure Stiles is sleeping when he finally mutters, “Good thing I don’t mind, then.”

Derek closes his eyes and falls asleep to the feel of Stiles’ smile against his back.

* * *

“’lo?” Derek grunts, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Derek?” the Sheriff’s voice comes from the other end. “I’m sorry to wake you, son, but I have news.”

Derek shoots up straight on the bed, mouthing ‘your dad’ when Stiles looks at him quizzically.

“Did something happen?” Derek asks, already gesturing for Stiles to call Laura, who only nods at him and grabs his own phone.

“We found the person responsible for claiming that the fire at your old house was an accident,” the Sheriff informs.

Derek’s entire body goes hot and cold at the same time, and his gaze flickers to Stiles, who hangs up his phone at the look on Derek’s face, but not before telling him that Laura is okay.

“They found the guy Kate bribed to say the fire was an accident,” Derek lets him know, his tone flat.

Stiles takes his phone from him and puts it on speaker just as the Sheriff says, “It wasn’t just that, Derek.”

“What do you mean?” Derek hears himself ask, grateful for the iron grip Stiles has on his hand.

“What I mean is that we found him,” the Sheriff pauses, clearing his throat before he continues. “We found him and he confessed.”


	7. Act Seven: Shake It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of things happen and I'm only sorry for half of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you know this was supposed to be a 4 chapter story? DID YOU????
> 
> also, this is about 2k words bigger than the other chapters, and all of them are full of angst :D

“I need to talk to Laura,” Derek says, the catch in his voice evident even to his own ears.

“Okay,” Stiles answers softly, taking his eyes from the road just long enough to glance back at Derek’s ashen face.

The Sheriff had asked him to stop by the station after they got off the phone, saying they’d need to take Derek’s statement again.

“Just to make sure no mistakes are made this time,” the Sheriff offers with a firm look when he sees the light tremors of Derek’s hands. “To make sure everyone who was involved gets what’s coming for them.”

The next few hours had Derek reliving his relationship with Kate and what happened once again, this time in an interrogation room with the Sheriff and another officer present while Stiles waited for him in his father’s office.

Derek realized it gets easier with time, telling people about what happened.

He doesn’t flinch much at the questions aimed his way, doesn’t feel like the whole world is going to come crashing down on him if he so much as opens his mouth.

It almost feels like cleansing.                                                       

Like the guilt rushes out of him as the words pour out of his mouth, as he finally lets himself share that with people who are willing to help him get _justice_ , for himself and for his family.

It doesn’t mean it’s easy for him to do it, it just means it’s not as difficult as it was the first time.

He likes to think it’s because what happened doesn’t own him anymore, that now he understands better that he was just a kid and she was not, that she took advantage of him and that loving someone doesn’t mean excusing them for everything they did and taking the blame on yourself.

Derek leaves the station with the lingering feeling of the Sheriff’s hand on his shoulder, his and his deputy’s word that they’ll do whatever they can to make things right, and Stiles’ hand in his.

They don’t say anything on the drive back to the apartment, Derek’s eyes closed as he tries to mentally prepare himself for his conversation with Laura.

Stiles doesn’t let go of him and they go up the stairs, a solid and warm presence at his side through the climb up, only pulling back a little to stand in front of Derek when they get to the front of Laura’s apartment door.

“Do you want me to stay?” Stiles brings one of his hands to cup Derek’s jaw, thumb tracing the stubble on his cheek.

Derek opens his mouth to answer, but closes it back up again, settling for shaking his head before resting their foreheads together.

Stiles leans in and rubs their noses together, his hand moving from Derek’s cheek to the back of his neck, his nails scratching lightly at Derek’s scalp.

“I don’t mind, you know,” Stiles says, breath ghosting over Derek’s lips. “ _Staying_.”

“I need to do this,” Derek tells him, his hands resting on Stiles’ hips contracting a little. “Alone.”

Stiles sighs before rubbing their noses together and saying, “I’ll be just next door, okay?”

“Yeah,” Derek whispers, tightening his hold on Stiles and pulling him closer. “I think I’ll stay here today. With Laura.”

“Alright,” Stiles says softly. “I’ll still be just next door.”

“I’ll call you or come over if we need anything,” Derek smiles sadly at him. “If _I_ need anything.”

“Good,” Stiles says, closing the distance between them and kissing Derek gently on the lips.

“I’ll see you later,” Derek says when he pulls back, letting one of his hands fall from Stiles’ hip to grab his keys from his back pocket.

Stiles kisses his cheek and presses his face against Derek’s neck, placing a kiss there, “I love you.”

Derek takes his other hand from Stiles’ hip to rest against the back of his neck, squeezing it, “Me too.”

“I’ll see you later?” Stiles asks when both of them pull back.

Derek unlocks the door, turning to Stiles before opening it and stepping inside.

“We’re not gonna be okay for a while,” Derek says, frowning a little. “After I tell her what happened, we’re not gonna be okay.”

“Super duper extra amazing chocolate cupcakes?” Stiles asks, his lips curled up just slightly.

“And maybe some ice cream?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Stiles says, taking a couple of steps back in the direction of his own apartment.

“Hey, Foxy,” Derek calls out after him, smiling a little when Stiles turns to look at him with a soft look in his eyes. “Thank you.”

Stiles’ face goes even softer at that, his eyes glinting as he nods at Derek and says, “Anytime, bright eyes. Anytime.”

Derek lets his eyes wonder over him one last time before he takes a deep breath and opens the door to Laura’s apartment. He can hear Stiles jiggling his own keys as he closes the door behind him, and for just a second he thinks of maybe asking Stiles to be here after all.

Laura is in her room, sitting on her bed with her back against the headboard and biting down on a pen, piles and piles of cash spread across her bed while she balances a calculator on one knee and her notepad on the other. She looks up when she sees him, smiling and gesturing at all the money in front of her.

“We got a lot more than I thought we would,” she tells him, and then bites down on her lower lip. “It’s going to help, but it’s still not enough to rebuild the garage. We’d probably need about five more fundraisers to manage that.”

“We could front the money,” Derek says, fighting the urge to slap himself for not thinking about it before. “Or I could.”

“What do you mean?”

“I liked the garage,” Derek starts. “I liked working there and Boyd, Erica and Isaac are good people. I know I have more than enough to cover the costs if I decide to rebuild the garage myself, with the… with the insurance money and the money I saved from working all these years. I could talk to Boyd about it, make it a partnership. That is, if you agree with it too, because it’s also your money.”

Laura is looking at him like she’s never seen him before, slowly nodding her head.

“If Boyd agrees to it,” Laura says after a beat or two. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else with that money.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Derek says, and then gulps. “After I talk to you.”

“Sure,” Laura says, frowning up at him. “What’s up?”

“Are you done counting?” Derek asks, eyeing the bills on top of the bed.

“Yes,” Laura drawls out, frown deepening. “I just have to put it away.”

“I’ll help you.”

Derek uses the time it takes to clear out the bed to think about how he’s going to do this. It took him a decade to get to the point where he was able to talk about this to another person, and now he has to tell his _sister_ and he has no idea how to approach the subject.

So it really shouldn’t surprise him that the minute he sits down and turns to Laura that he blurts out, “The fire wasn’t an accident.”

Laura blinks at him and tilts her head to the side, “At Jungle and the garage? We already know that, Derek.”

Derek takes a deep breath and clenches his hands to keep them from shaking.

“Derek?” Laura asks, placing a hand on his arm.

“The fire,” Derek tries again. “At our house. It wasn’t an accident.”

Laura takes her hand back like she’s been burned, and when Derek looks up at her it’s to see her face contorted in anger. 

“What are you talking about?” Laura hisses. “This isn’t funny.”

Derek presses his lips together, shaking his head a few times before clearing his throat, “I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to listen to me, okay?”

“Derek,” Laura says, her voice wavering. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I need you to promise me,” Derek says, looking her straight in the eye. “I need you to promise me you’re going to let me get all of this out. And then you can do whatever you want, okay?”

“Der-”

“Promise me.”

Laura stares at him, her eyes shining and her entire body vibrating, “I promise.”

“The fire at the house wasn’t an accident,” Derek says again. “The insurance company guy who ruled it out as such was lying. He was bribed, and the Sheriff called me today saying he confessed to the whole thing.”

“Who is he?” Laura asks, her voice wobbly and angry. “Why did he do that? Why confess now? Who paid him? Who did it? What _happened_ to our _family?_ ”

Laura is clutching at Derek’s shoulder by them, her nails pressing down hard against him skin and tears flowing down her face.

“I’m going to tell you, but I need you to listen to me,” Derek says, bringing his hands up to grab her wrists, prying her hands from him.

“What happened, Derek?” Laura whispers, hands falling limp on her lap as she looks up at him.

“You know I love you, right?” Derek asks her, because he needs to make sure she knows that before he keeps going. “You’re my family and I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I-,” Laura says, shaking her head before nodding. “Of course I do.”

Derek looks at her.

But he also knows that he needs to do this. He needs to tell her so he can help himself heal, so he can help himself accept what happened to his family and that he wasn’t to blame, so they can get some kind of closure. So the both of them can put the ghosts of their family to rest.

“You know I love you too, right?” Laura croaks out, staring at him from under tear-stained lashes. “You’re my baby brother, and I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

Derek looks at her.

Derek looks at her and lets _everything go_.

It takes him about an hour to tell Laura about everything. He has to stop from time to time to wipe the tears away with a shaky hand, or to breathe deep and try to brace himself from feeling like he is being ripped apart again, or to try and calm Laura down when her sobs get worse and she is left gasping for breath.

Laura is angry at first, grasping at the quilt beneath her and twisting it in her hands until her knuckles turn white. And then she feels guilty, shaking her head and rocking back and forth and saying that she is _sorry_ and that she _didn’t know_ and that she _should have done something_. In the end she is sad, so incredibly sad that all Derek can do is hold on when she throws her arms around his neck while she cries against his shoulder, whispering that she _loves him_ , that _it wasn’t his fault_ , that _they’ll be okay_ and that _they’ll go through this together_.

It isn’t until a couple of hours later that Derek mentions Stiles and the cupcakes, calling him when Laura says it might be good for both of them to have Stiles there.

She isn’t surprised to know Derek had told Stiles about what happened first, and even goes as far as hugging him tight and thanking him for being there for Derek when he arrives, cupcakes and ice cream in hand.

“I have more ice cream if you guys want any,” Stiles says from his place at the end of Laura’s bed, eyeing the empty cupcake containers and ice cream bucket and dirty spoons.

Laura and Derek are curled up around each other on the bed, Laura resting her head against Derek’s shoulder while he rests his back against the headboard and twirls a strand of her hair around his fingers.

Their faces are pale and tear-stained, their eyes bloodshot, and Derek is sure they must make a really awful picture.

“That’s alright,” Laura mumbles from her place against Derek’s chest, her brows furrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You okay?” Derek asks when he catches the look on her face.

“No,” Laura rasps out, her frown deepening. “I’m not okay.”

Derek’s body tenses at Laura’s words, Stiles shifting on the bed until he can get a hand on Derek’s leg. Laura sees the exchange, letting out a sigh before pulling back from Derek and turning to stare at him.

“I’m not mad at you,” Laura says, sounding tired. “I know why you. I just. I _understand_ , okay? You were just a kid and you were scared and you didn’t know how to deal with it all and you blamed yourself because that’s the kind of stupid shit you _do_ and it’s _fine_.”

Derek swallows hard, dropping his gaze from Laura’s to stare at the bed. He doesn’t get to glare at the bedspread from long, though, having to look back up at her when Laura whacks him in the back of the head.

“Derek,” Laura says, her tone firm, but Derek can see the slight tremble on her chin. “What _she_ did? I’m going half out of my mind here trying to keep myself from going after her and _tearing her limbs off one by one_.”

Derek blinks at her, a little stunned.

He hears Stiles mutter “You go, sister,” under his breath, but before he can turn around to glare at her, Laura keeps going.

“I want to chop her off into tiny little pieces and set her _on fire_ ,” Laura hisses. “To know that I _met her_ and that she just stood there _smiling at me_ all the while knowing what she did to us? _I want to kill her_. I want to watch the life bleed out of her eyes and then I want to _laugh_ because being dead is what she _deserves_.”

Derek knows he’s gaping at her. He knows he’s looking at her with wide eyes and mouth parted and he doesn’t know whether to be scared of Laura or hug the shit out of her.

Stiles settles it for him when he starts to slow clap, abruptly stopping when both Derek and Laura turn to glare at him.

“What?” he shrugs. “That was badass. Fucked up, but badass. And I kind of totally agree.”

“You totally agree,” Derek says flatly, blinking at Stiles.

Since Derek opened up to him and told him about what happened, Stiles has been nothing but supportive. He’s been kind and understanding and helping Derek learn not to feel so guilty about it. And, sure, he made a comment about wanting to kill her, but Derek thought that was his reacting to finally knowing about what happened - a heat of the moment thing, if you will.

But to have him say he agrees with Laura about _killing her_ and _shrugging_ like it’s no big deal kind of leaves Derek feeling a little bit like the floor dropped under his feet.

He also feels a little uncomfortable about how much he likes knowing Stiles would do that for him.

“I totally agree,” Stiles nods, getting up from the bed only to sit back down by Derek’s side, cuddling up to his free side while Laura stares at them with a  thoughtful look on her face. “No one gets to do that to someone I love and get away free.”

Derek is sure his heart skips a beat at that, and he doesn’t hesitate to grab Stiles by the chin and place a firm kiss on his lips. The hand Stiles has on Derek’s stomach clutches at the fabric of Derek’s shirt, and Derek can’t help but nip lightly at Stiles’ bottom lip before releasing him, shifting him on the bed until Stiles is resting against Derek’s chest and shoulder and Derek can throw an arm around him to pull him closer.

Laura is still staring at them, but this time there’s a noticeable curl to her lips that almost makes her look like today wasn’t one of the worst days of her life.

Derek raises a brow in question, tracing random patterns against the skin on Stiles’ arm with his fingers as Stiles plays with the hem of his shirt.

“If you two don’t get married I’m going to cut someone,” Laura says lightly, smile widening when Stiles’ head snaps up so he can look at her.

“If you don’t shut up I’m going to suffocate you in your sleep,” Stiles hisses, his entire body tense.

“Would it be that bad?” Derek asks before he can stop himself, the hand on Stiles’ arm stilling as he realizes what he just asked.

He thinks about taking it back, or maybe dumping Stiles on the floor and locking himself in the bathroom and taking a look at his life choices, but he can’t help but be curious about Stiles’ reaction.

If the way his entire body went tense was because he can’t imagine them being together for that long, or if it was because of something else.

No one says anything for a few seconds, and Derek is starting to worry about it when he feels Stiles relax a little against him.

“Are you proposing?” Stiles asks quietly, the rapid beat of Stiles’ heart against Derek’s ribs betraying his nervousness

Derek blinks at the wall in front of him, and then at Laura who just raises both her eyebrows at him as if telling him _I’m not going to tell you what to do even though I’ve been trying to do just that since you were born_ , and finally at the top of Stiles’ head.

He’s pretty sure Stiles can feel the way his heart is going into overdrive, but he takes a deep breath and says, “If I were, you would know.”

And just like that, the tension in the room is broken. Stiles relaxing fully against him and Laura lying down beside them on the bed.

“That’s good,” Stiles says, patting Derek on the stomach. “Because I expect flowers and fireworks and dressing up and a ridiculously expensive ring.”

“Wouldn’t want you to miss _that_ ,” Derek shakes his head, smiling fondly at him.

“Please tell me that by dressing up you mean Derek in drag,” Laura pipes up from her place on the mattress, biting down on her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

If Derek breaks a lamp and almost brains himself on his rush to tackle Laura to the ground and make her regret _living_ while Stiles just throws his arms up and shouts “Yes!”, no one needs to know.

* * *

The next couple of weeks are not the best of Derek’s life.

Laura sticks to him like glue, only letting him go when Stiles is there to take his spot at Derek’s side, never once leaving him alone to deal with all that’s been happening since the insurance agent confessed.

As much as the Sheriff tried to keep things under wraps, news that the Hale fire wasn’t an accident and that it and the attempts at Jungle and Boyd’s garage were connected to it spread around town really quickly.

Allison knocks on Laura’s door one afternoon, Scott by her side with a hand on her shoulders and a somber look on his face.

Laura barely glances at her before pulling her into a hug, and it takes about forty-five minutes of them both crying and then Derek and Laura telling Allison that they are in no way mad at her or blaming her for what happened to get her to calm down.

When they ask her how she knows about what happened, Allison tells them the Sheriff came to talk to her and her dad when they were in the middle of one of their Saturday night dinners.

“He asked us if we knew where she was,” Allison says, her voice cracking. “Dad didn’t answer and asked him what this was about and he told us,” she takes a deep breath, wiping away at her eyes. “He told us about how they were reopening the Hale case in light of some new evidence that said the fire wasn’t an accident, and that he needed to bring her in so they could clear some things out. Dad said he didn’t see how she had anything to do with it, because Kate wasn’t even here when that happened.”

Stiles rests his head against Derek’s shoulder at that, Derek taking Laura’s hand in his while Scott keeps rubbing circles against Allison’s back.

“That’s when the Sheriff said,” Allison sniffles. “That’s when he said he had witnesses placing Kate in town when it happened, and saying that she left only a couple of days after. Dad asked him who those witnesses were and,” Allison chokes up, and they can all see her trying to keep herself together. “And he said your name. Derek Hale. And also the insurance agent who claimed Aunt Kate bribed him to rule the fire out as an accident, so that’s why it was important for him to get a hold of her.”

Stiles gets up from the couch and walks towards the kitchen, no one saying anything until he comes back with a glass of water for Allison, smiling kindly when she takes it and gulps half of it down.

“Dad kind of got really angry at that,” Allison shakes her head. “Demanding to know who was this guy and why were they taking his word for it, and what the Sheriff’s son’s boyfriend had anything to do with it, despite the obvious. The Sheriff said he’d be happy to answer all of dad’s questions. _At the station_.”

Derek hears Stiles mutter “My dad is a badass” under his breath, and if he didn’t feel like crying he probably would have laughed at the obvious pride in Stiles’ voice.

“I don’t think the Sheriff was expecting my dad to agree,” Allison mumbles, before clearing her throat and continuing. “I was still waiting at the house he came back about two hours later looking like death, and when I asked him what happened he just shook his head at me, grabbed a bottle of whisky and sat down on the kitchen table.”

Tears start falling down her cheek again, and this time she makes no move to wipe them off.

“It wasn’t until I threaten to dig up my old crossbow from the basement and shoot him in the foot that he told me what happened,” Allison whispers. “That the Sheriff asked him if he knew his sister was involved with a sixteen year old the last time she was here. If he was aware of her relationship with you,” she glances at Derek, but quickly looks away. “And about her possessive behavior and what they think came of it. And that now Aunt Kate is the main suspect in three different arson cases, one of them being at the Hale house ten years ago and the other two being the ones at Jungle and the garage. The ones where my _friends_ were and where _I_ was.”

Derek’s stomach twists at the confusion and anger lacing Allison’s tone. As much as he hates Kate, Allison has grown on him and he sees her as a friend, and he doesn’t like to see the open hurt in her eyes.

“I think dad was reluctant to help with the investigation until I mentioned that to him,” Allison admits, taking another sip of water, her hands shaking a bit. “That I could have… That we all could have been hurt or, or worse.”

Silence falls over them at that, Stiles shifting closer to Derek on the couch and Derek tightening his hold on Laura.

“I told him that,” Allison takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as more tears fall down. “I told him that if he knew anything he had to tell them. If Aunt Kate actually did what they’re accusing her of, she put me, her own _niece_ , in danger, and my _friends_ , and the man I _love,_ too. My dad can’t just let that go, even if she’s family and even if,” Allison gulps. “Even if we love her.”

Nobody says anything after that, and it’s not long before Allison says she has to go back to her dad’s house to see how he’s doing.

“He’s taking this pretty hard,” Allison grimaces. “I think. I think he blames himself? That if she really did this, then maybe he could have done something to stop her or, or something.”

Derek and Laura reassure her once more that it’s not her fault, and that unless her father knew something about it, he’s not to blame for his sister’s actions either.

The Sheriff stops by the apartment a couple of days after that to let them know that no one’s seen Kate around.

“I think she might have caught wind of how the truth about what happened to your family came out,” the Sheriff says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “People know Chris was at the station, but I don’t know if they connected the dots just yet. Kate might have.”

“How worried should we be?” Laura asks, jaw set and eyes narrowed.

They’re all sitting at Laura’s dining room table, the Sheriff at the head of it with Laura on his right side and Stiles and Derek on his left. Derek keeps his gaze on the half empty soda can in front of him, trying to concentrate on the feel of Stiles’ hand against his and not the dread set in his bones.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you three like this while she’s walking around,” the Sheriff admits. “Especially since she knows where you live.”

“Please tell me you’re not going to put a tail on us,” Stiles sighs, looking at his dad pleadingly.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” the Sheriff points a finger at him, tone hard. “I’m not going to let you here sitting ducks and waiting for her to make an appearance. I already have half the task force out there looking for her, and it’s not going to take long before she figures that one out.”

“You think she’s going to try something,” Derek says, the words like ash against his tongue.

“I think she’s feeling trapped,” the Sheriff says. “I think she lived the past ten years thinking she got away with something horrible, thinking she was _safe_. And now that her security is compromised, there’s no telling how she’s going to react. I think she disappeared because she doesn’t want to take any chances, but the closer we get to her and the closer we get to catching her and locking her away the more she’s going to think that maybe she has nothing else left to lose. Because she already lost the thing she built her life around: people not knowing what she did.”

“Okay,” Stiles agrees weakly. “You can put a tail on us.”

“Thanks,” the Sheriff says dryly. “That’s very nice of you.”

The very next day Stiles, Laura and Derek are introduced to the officers who are going to be following them around town and making sure they’re safe. Stiles complains to Derek and Laura the entire drive to the library about how he still thinks this is somewhat unnecessary and that the officers are just going to be bored all the time. So Derek can’t say he’s surprised when he sees Stiles smuggling fresh coffee and brownies to them whenever he thinks no one’s looking.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay here while we work?” Stiles asks him as Derek walks him and Laura to the library check-out counter.

“I think I can manage,” Derek deadpans, earning a huff from Stiles.

“You know where my office is, right?” Laura raises an eyebrow at him as she starts stacking the books left on the counter in different piles.

“It’s right past the big ugly brown leather couch and it has a whiteboard stuck to the door saying ‘The Alpha’,” Stiles says, eyes glued to the computer in front of his as he logs on. “You can’t miss it.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Derek shakes his head, tapping his knuckles on the counter to get Stiles and Laura’s attention. “I called Boyd and asked him to meet me here before lunch.”

“You’re going to talk to him about the garage?” Stiles asks, a small smile playing at his lips.

When Derek told him about his idea of proposing to be some sort of silent partner to Boyd’s garage so he could fund the construction, Stiles had grabbed his face between his hands and kissed him senseless.

Derek nods at him, lips twitching when Stiles’ smile widens and he leans over and pecks Derek on the lips.

“Okay, you two,” Laura says. “Derek, you go sit somewhere and be pretty while you wait for Boyd. Stiles, just go to work and don’t let my brother distract you too much.”

“It’s not my fault his existence distracts me,” Stiles yells after her as she makes her way to her office, flipping them off over her shoulder.

“Because it takes a lot to distract you,” Derek rolls his eyes.

“Hey,” Stiles protests. “I resent that. And I also have to go open the doors, like, five minutes ago, so go do what your sister said and just sit somewhere within my eyesight and be pretty.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Derek says, grabbing Stiles by the back of his neck and kissing him one more time before letting him go to work.

Derek spends the time up until his meeting with Boyd catching up on his reading, finding himself oddly relaxed amongst the stacks of books and with Stiles occasionally stopping by to talk to him or just press a kiss to his temple.

He gets a little nervous when he sees Boyd stepping into the library, nodding at Stiles who points to the spot where Derek is sitting. Derek tilts his chin in acknowledgment, waiting until Boyd is sitting in front of him to say something.

Boyd is reluctant to agree to Derek’s plan of them joining forces and resources to rebuild the garage, telling him that there’s no way he could ask that of Derek or put him in that position.

“It’s too much,” Boyd shakes his head. “I’ll never dream of asking you to spend that kind of money.”

“You’re not asking me,” Derek points out. “I’m the one offering. And Laura is on board with it.”

Boyd is still shaking his head no, and Derek licks his lips and sighs before deciding to just say what’s on his mind.

“I like you,” Derek starts. “You’re a good man, and in the time we’ve been working together I like to think that we became close friends,” Derek runs a hand over his hair and snorts a laugh. “Hell, Erica is kind of a more violent and blonde version of Laura and Isaac is like the little cousin I never asked for. I like working with you, I liked the garage, I liked the feeling of,” Derek swallows hard, eyes widening at realizing just how important these people are to him. “I liked the feeling of _family_ we had while working, and I want to do whatever I can do to have that back. Laura and I have the kind of money to make it happen, and trust me when I tell you that’s it’s no skin off our back to spend it by helping our friends.”

Boyd just stares at him for a long time, considering his words.

“It’s the insurance money, isn’t it?” Boyd asks him, voice low and somber.

“It can be the garage money, now,” Derek answers. “Something good can come out of it, _finally_. And if this still makes you uncomfortable, feel free to buy my share of the deal whenever the garage brings you enough money to do so.”

Boyd blinks at him, and it still takes a couple of seconds until Derek sees his shoulders relax.

“You’re a good friend, Derek,” Boyd says, extending a hand in front of him.

“I,” Derek’s clasps his hand in Boyd’s, shaking it and feeling a little lightheaded at how much hearing that means to him. “Thank you.”

He goes in search of Laura after Boyd leaves, pulling her into a hug when she sighs and tells him that their parents would be proud of them for using the insurance money to do something good for their friends.

As he runs his fingers through her hair and kisses her forehead, he can’t help but think so too.

* * *

“I never thought I’d say it,” Stiles looks helplessly at a pair of red flats before kicking them away. “But I’m not really in the mood for this.”

Derek stops folding dresses to walk up to Stiles and pull him in a hug, tilting his head a little to the side to let Stiles press his face against his neck.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Derek and Laura are not the only ones going through this, and as Stiles sighs and clings to Derek, he feels kind of bad for not realizing it until now.

“I’m sure Danny would understand if you canceled it,” Derek says, running a hand up and down Stiles’ back.

“Not an option,” Stiles mumbles against his neck. “I made a commitment and I’m gonna stick to it.”

“But if you’re not-”

“I’m gonna do it,” Stiles says, shifting so he’s pressed even closer to Derek. “It might even be good for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Performing is always a way out of my own head,” Stiles explains, breathing Derek in before continuing. “It’s always a way for me to take a step back and distant myself from the shit going on in my life until I feel like it’s safe enough to go back and deal with it. So, really, if there’s a time where I need to do that, it’s probably now.”

Derek suddenly feels guilty, his entire body tensing.

And then Stiles is stepping back and grabbing him by the shoulders and _shaking him_.

“Stop it,” Stiles tells him. “You’re totally doing the self-blame thing right now and it has to _stop_.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” Derek says, shaking his head.

Because he _is_.

He’s so fucking _sorry_ he brought this shit into Stiles’ life, into their friends’ lives.

He’s sorry they have to suffer because if _his_ mistakes.

“You didn’t drag me into anything,” Stiles says, eyes hard and jaw set. “I jumped right into it. I threw myself at it, because I _love you_ and because I want to help you and because you deserve good things, Derek.”

Derek gulps, eyes raking over Stiles’ face as what he said starts to sink in.

“I deserve good things,” Derek repeats, the idea so foreign to him that he can’t help the wonder lacing his tone.

“Oh, babe,” Stiles’ face breaks, and he’s pulling at Derek and hugging him close. “Yes, you do. You deserve all the good things. All of them.”

And Derek realizes that he _does_.

It just took him this long to figure it out.

It just took him _ten years_ to lay the blame on who it belongs to, to open up to people and let them _help_ , to come forward with his story and letting the police bring justice to his family when he couldn’t.

It just took him losing himself, letting his sister down, coming back home only to find himself again, falling in love with this beautiful man in front of him who’s holding on to him like he’s the only thing keeping him together, making space for new friends and new experiences.

And it just took Stiles grabbing him by the shoulder and physically shaking him for him to realize that _they’re all the good things_.

Stiles, Laura, Isaac, Allison, Scott, Boyd, Erica, Danny, and even the Sheriff _are the good things_.

The garage, the library, his room in Laura’s apartment with brushes thrown all over and paint on the floor, his drawer in Stiles’ bedroom and toothbrush on the sink, the little coffee shop where they meet for Friday morning breakfast _are all good things_.

And Derek _deserves them_.

“There it is,” Stiles whispers against Derek’s cheek when he feels Derek’s body relax completely against him. “You got it now, bright eyes. You understand.”

“Yeah,” Derek croaks out, taking a deep breath. “I do.”

Stiles pulls back just enough so he can smile softly at Derek, one of his hands coming to cup his cheek as he leans in and brushes his lips against Derek’s.

“As much as it pains me to ruin the moment,” Stiles sighs. “We should probably get going.”

“I’ll grab everything while you go find some shoes,” Derek tells him, kissing him one more time before stepping back and going to grab what they need for tonight.

When they get outside, Stiles stops and waves at the officers parked in front of the building as Derek loads his things in the Jeep, kissing Derek on the cheek before getting in the car.

Danny meets them backstage and tells Stiles he already had about a dozen people coming up to him and asking about where he got the cupcakes for the fundraiser.

“Please tell me you didn’t say that I made them all,” Stiles looks pleadingly at Danny.

“Like I would ever,” Danny says, in mock hurt. “I know that if I did you’d never bake cakes for me ever again.”

“Smart man,” Stiles clasps Danny on the shoulder. “Now if you’ll excuse us.”

“Go get ready,” Danny flashes his dimples at them. “I’ll see you later.”

They fall into the familiar routine of getting Stiles in drag.

Derek paints Stiles’ nails with just his bright red nail polish, feeling a little bit disappointed when he sees that the shoes Stiles brought are actually gold glitter ballerina [flats](http://www.polyvore.com/gold_glitter_ballerina_flats/thing?id=52924504) instead of sandals.

“I’ll let you paint my toes when we get home,” Stiles smirks at him, bumping his foot against Derek’s own.

For Stiles’ face, Derek only uses some light golden eye shadow for his eyes and a light pink lipstick. He thought about doing something more intricate, but when Stiles showed him the Venetian black and gold [mask](http://emardigrasbeads.com/shoppingcart/displayProductOptions.asp?li=0&cu=0&ca=2036160) he intended to wear, he decided against it.

When time comes to get Stiles into his dress, Derek has to admit he’s a little bit more excited than usual. This is the first time he’s going to see Stiles in something other than a leotard or short dress, and he’s finding it hard to keep himself from fucking Stiles senseless as he stands in front of him.

Stiles has on a floor length, flow-y, three-quarter sleeved gold [dress](http://www.aliexpress.com/item-img/Gorgeous-RL7819-A-line-Sequins-Long-Sleeves-Gold-Evening-Dresses-Formal/625201478.html) with a deep v-neck and sequin details, and he looks downright _gorgeous_.

Especially after Derek helps him put on his long red curly hair [wig](http://www.lightinthebox.com/Capless-Extra-Long-High-Quality-Synthetic-Red-Wine-Curly-Hair-Wig-0463-453_p142570.html) with bangs pushed to the side, the red strands falling past his shoulders and down his back.

“You gotta stop eye-fucking me before my shows.”

Derek’s attention snaps from thinking about how pale Stiles’ skin looks against the red of the wig to Stiles, who’s currently biting down on his bottom lip and resting his hands against Derek’s chest.

“Not my fault you look good like this,” Derek says, his voice low.

“I always look good,” Stiles says, flipping his hair over his shoulder.

“Sure do, Foxy,” Derek’s lips curl up at the corners as Stiles’ face softens and he leans in and kisses Derek on the cheek.

The pink lipstick mark of his lips is barely there on Derek’s skin, but Stiles still presses his thumb under it and smiles smugly at himself.

“Now we’re good to go,” Stiles says, patting Derek lightly on the chest before grabbing his mask and walking out of the dressing room, his dress flowing behind him.

Derek kisses him and wishes him good luck by the stage, making his way to Laura and the rest of their friends. 

He makes a point to kiss Allison on the cheek when he sees her, not wanting her to feel uneasy around him because of what her aunt did. He’s rewarded with a bright dimple-y smile from her and a punch in the shoulder from Scott, smiling a little when Laura hugs him and headbutts him in the chest.

Stiles appears on stage with his mask on, letting Danny press a kiss to his knuckles before passing him the mic.

Derek can already tell this is not going to be a typical performance when Stiles stays immobile in the middle of the stage as the song starts, mouthing _regrets collect like old friends, here to relieve your darkest moments_. He moves his head up as _I can see no way, I can see no way_ , lowering it back again and starting to move his body slowly when _and all of the ghouls come out to play, and every demon wants his pound of flesh_. The hand not holding the mic comes to rest in a close fist against his heart as _but I like to keep some things to myself, I like to keep my issues drawn,_ and he lowers his wrist again with _it’s always darkest before the dawn_.

And now he starts moving on stage _and I’ve been a fool and I’ve been blind,_ his hips joining the song as he starts dancing when _I can never leave the past behind_. Shaking his head as he says again that _I can see no way, I can see no way_.

And suddenly Derek is starting to think this is one of those times Stiles is trying to tell him something, with the way he keeps mouthing _I’m always dragging that horse around_ and _our love is questioned, such a mournful sound_. And how he stomps his feet as _tonight I’m gonna burry that horse in the ground_. Flipping his hair over his shoulder when _so I like to keep my issues drawn, but it’s always darkest before the dawn._

And then Stiles is wrenching his mask away and throwing it across the stage, arms up as he twirls around, his dress flowing around him as he sings [_shake it out_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WbN0nX61rIs) _, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out_ over and over again, stopping to stare at Derek and mouth _and it’s hard to dance with the devil on your back_ , smiling softly at him as he changes the words and says _so shake her off_.

Derek doesn’t really notice the people cheering and singing along as Stiles keeps going, thinking about how today he did exactly that.

He stopped letting Kate and what happened control his entire life, he stopped _punishing himself_. And of course Stiles would somehow take that and turn it into something beautiful, something that makes Derek feel lighter and so fucking _grateful_ for having him in his life, for having him _understand_.

Laura barely waves him off when he tells her where he’s going, too busy flirting with possibly one of the only straight guys in the audience. Derek remembers him saying something about being there with his cousin, and by the way Laura is eyeing him like he’s something she could _eat_ , Derek figures Laura’s not really the one in trouble in that equation. 

So in no time Derek has Stiles pressed against the door, his hands on Stiles’ bare thighs under his dress and supporting his weight when legs wrap around his waist.

“You’re kind of amazing,” Derek tells him. “And not at all subtle.”

“It got you to understand, though, didn’t it?” Stiles raises an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah,” Derek says, breath ghosting over Stiles’ lips. “She doesn’t have a place in my life anymore.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Stiles smiles brightly at him before getting his fingers through Derek’s hair and bringing him in for a kiss.

Derek hums in agreement, lips moving against Stiles’ own and tasting lipstick as they map each other’s mouths, chuckling when Stiles gets his teeth down on Derek’s bottom lip as he pulls back.

“As much as I’d like to do this here,” Stiles says, letting go of Derek’s lip. “I think Danny would probably kill us if we had dressing room sex again.”

“Too bad,” Derek says, bringing his hands to Stiles’ ass and kneading it between his hands. “I was kind of looking forward to it.”

Stiles groans low in his throat, letting his forehead drop against Derek’s, “Let’s just leave all of our friends behind and go back to my apartment and have crazy amounts of sex, okay?”

Derek smiles, rubbing their noses together before saying, “Okay.”

It doesn’t take Stiles nearly as long as it usually does for him to be off drag and in jeans and a t-shirt again, letting Derek put all of his makeup away as he rummages through his backpack and pats his pockets in search for something.

“Are the apartment keys with you?” Stiles asks him, frowning.

“ _Your_ apartment keys?” Derek raises an eyebrow at him.

“You’re there almost as much as me, so don’t even,” Stiles points a finger at him. “Seriously, I can only find the keys to the Jeep.”

“Maybe you left them at the coffee table again,” Derek says, because it wouldn’t be the first time in their lives that Stiles managed to lock himself out of his own apartment. “Or you forgot to pull them out of the lock.”

Stiles makes a face at him, zipping his bag and throwing a strap over his shoulder before walking up to Derek.

“Please tell me you have your keys.”

“I do,” Derek sighs. “To _my_ apartment.”

“Where you have a room,” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows at him. “And a _bed_.”

“Laura is going to be pissed if I tell her not to come home tonight,” Derek tells him, not that he cares that much.

Laura deserves to be sexiled every once in a while.

Derek likes to think it keeps her on her toes.

“I’m pretty sure she’s not going to anyways,” Stiles says when they step out of the dressing room and back into the club, gesturing at the bar.

Derek follows his eyes to find Laura sitting on a stool, her body angled towards the guy she was with earlier. He has one hand resting on her knee, the other tapping a beat against the counter of the bar. They’re both smiling at each other, and Derek has to look back at Stiles when the guy leans in to kiss her.

“See?” Stiles looks at him in amusement. “I doubt Laura will be coming to the apartment tonight.”

“I’ll text her on the way,” Derek says as they walk to the exit, looking anywhere but to his sister making out with a guy.

“Be sure to do it soon,” Stiles nods at him, eyes glinting in the faint light of the parking lot. “Otherwise you might _interrupt_ something. Like her having _sex_.”

“I love you but I don’t think I can date you anymore,” Derek says flatly, shaking his head at Stiles.

Derek keeps walking until he gets to the Jeep, frowning and turning his head when Stiles doesn’t open the door. He turns on his heels to find Stiles standing still in the middle of the parking lot, eyes wide and mouth parted.

“Stiles?” Derek asks, lying the makeup box on the ground by his feet and hanging the plastic bag with Stiles’ dress and wig on the Jeep before walking up to him.

Stiles still hasn’t moved, the grip on his backpack strap so tight his knuckles are going white. He doesn’t say anything when Derek gets to him, just stares straight at him, blinking.

“Stiles?” Derek tries again, bringing a hand up to cup Stiles’ cheek.

“You said it,” Stiles says, his voice cracking. “You said it.”

Derek looks at him, confused. Next thing he knows Stiles is throwing his head back and laughing in glee, eyes shining and mouth stretched in the widest smile Derek has ever seen, and then he’s pulling Derek by his shirt and crashing their mouths together.

Derek has no idea what’s happening, but when Stiles gets his hands around Derek’s neck and pulls him impossibly closer while sucking Derek’s tongue into his mouth, he decides he doesn’t care.

The kiss is harsh and wet and _desperate_ , Stiles pressing himself against Derek and gripping at his hair like he’s afraid he’ll disappear, while Derek just snakes his arms around Stiles’ waist and holds on.

When Stiles pulls back, his lips are swollen and red and spit-slicked and curled up in a smile and Derek can’t resist but going back in for more, licking his way into Stiles’ mouth one more time.

“You said it,” Stiles says again, this time against Derek’s lips.

Derek is just about to ask _what_ when Stiles shuts him up with a nip to his bottom lip, fingers flexing against Derek’s scalp.

“You,” and Stiles actually _giggles_ right into Derek’s mouth. “You _love me_.”

Derek frowns at him, because he thought Stiles knew that already. They already exchanged the big words and Derek already told him that-

Oh.

_Oh._

“You _love_ me,” Stiles singsongs. “You love _me_. _You_ love me. _You love me_.”

“Yes, I do,” Derek says, trying to sound annoyed but coming out incredibly fond instead. “Get over it.”

“Nope,” Stiles says, still giddy. “I totally get it why you repeated it so much when I said it. It’s _awesome_. And you’re not even going to be mad at me because you _love_ me.”

“I’m rethinking my life choices,” Derek deadpans, but cracking a small smile when Stiles only laughs and kisses him again.

“We need to go home now,” Stiles says when he pulls back. “We need to go home and have all the sex.”

“You’re the one who stopped in the middle of the parking lot to make out,” Derek says, kissing him in the cheek before stepping back.

“You’re the one who told me _you love me_ ,” Stiles points a finger at him as they walk to the Jeep. “Me jumping is totally justified.”

“If it gets me that reaction,” Derek teases him. “I’ll just have to say it more then.”

“Just don’t do it while I’m driving,” Stiles says as they get in the Jeep and he turns the ignition on. “I don’t want any accidents.”

“I’ll restrain myself,” Derek rolls his eyes, buckling his seatbelt.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” Stiles tells him as they drive off the parking lot.

“Good thing you’re already in love with me,” Derek shrugs, biting back a smile when Stiles only sighs and mumbles, “Yeah.”

They spend the rest of the drive in silence, and Derek thinks it has much more to do with them both thinking about jumping each other’s bones other than anything else.

Derek knows that for him, he can’t wait to get Stiles alone, gets his hands and mouth on him, make and watch him fall apart.

He presses Stiles against the wall on their way up, getting his hands under Stiles’ shirt and sucking a mark on his neck while Stiles tries to rut against him. Derek only pulls back when Stiles starts going on about not wanting to be arrested by indecent exposure, stopping to adjust himself before continuing to climb up the stairs to the apartment.

They stop to check and see if Stiles did leave his keys in the lock, Stiles smacking him in the ass when Derek only raises an eyebrow at him when they find out that he _didn’t_.

Stiles attaches himself to Derek’s back when Derek grabs his keys to open his door, Stiles’ tongue and teeth on his neck making it hard for him to get the door opened.

Derek closes the door behind them as soon as they get inside the apartment, pressing Stiles against it and going back to sucking at his neck. Stiles’ has a hand under Derek’s shirt, nails scratching at his abs and going down until he finds Derek’s belt buckle, getting it undone.

Just as Stiles unloops Derek’s belt and throws it half across the room, the living room light turns on.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise.”

Derek turns back around so fast he thinks he hears his spine crack.

Sitting on one of Laura’s armchairs is Kate, one hand tapping a mindlessly rhythm against her knee and the other training a gun at Stiles and Derek’s heads.

Derek’s hand goes to the door knob, and he’s about to open it and push Stiles outside when Kate gets up and walks towards them.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” Kate shakes her head at him. “Now, how about you two back up from the door and go stand by the other side of the room?”

Derek feels Stiles’ nails bite at his back from the grip Stiles has on him, and he can feel his fast puffs of breath against the back of his neck. He reaches a hand behind him and grasps Stiles’ other hand, his eyes never leaving Kate as he does as he’s told.

He makes sure to keep Stiles behind him at all times, never letting go of his hand as they walk further and further into the room. He knows it’s not smart to get so far away from one of the only exits in the room, but he won’t risk Stiles getting hurt by disobeying Kate.

They circle around each other, Derek and Stiles walking to the opposite end of the living room while Kate gets closer to the door. She keeps the gun and her eyes pointed at both of them, her hand steady as she finally gets her back pressed against the door.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, sweetie?” Kate smiles sweetly at him, looking from him to Stiles. “I think it’s only fair for the ex-girlfriend to meet the new _boyfriend_ , don’t you?”

Derek doesn’t say anything.

All of his attention is focused on keeping Stiles as far away from her as possible, focused on making sure they get out of this _alive_.

So he keeps quiet, because he’s pretty sure nothing good will come out of his mouth if he decides to talk to her. He’s had ten years of repressed anger aimed towards her, and he knows that the best time to let it all out is definitely _not_ when she has a gun aimed at his and Stiles’ head.

Kate doesn’t take his silence well, considering her smile disappears.

“Imagine my surprise when I’m talking to my niece,” Kate says, Stiles’ hand tightening against Derek’s back at the mention of Allison. “And she mentions one of her friends is dating someone new, this _Derek Hale_ guy.”

Derek’s jaw clenches at hearing his name from her, and he has to let go of Stiles hand as to not crush it when the anger starts to build.

“I didn’t have any plans to come back here, you know,” Kate says, waving the hand not holding the gun in front of her. “ _Too many memories_.  But when I heard that from Allison, I just _had_ to come back and see for myself if the Derek she talked about and _my Derek_ were the same people.”

Derek can’t help but flinch at that, the old guilt and shame coming back and mixing with his anger for her, for everything bad she represents. He can feel Stiles tensing behind him, feels him letting go of the iron grip he has on the back of Derek’s shirt.

“And not only you two were the same people,” Kate continues, and her tone turns harsh and her expression hardens. “But _you were dating someone else_.”

Derek still doesn’t say anything, blinking at her and not believing what’s coming out of her mouth. He’s so stunned he almost misses the soft brush of Stiles’ fingers against his back pocket, and it takes all of his self-control not to move when Stiles gets his hand inside and pulls Derek’s phone out.

“And how, Derek,” Kate looks at him, her hand starting to shake a little as her eyes widen and her face contorts in anger and she screams, “How could you be with someone else _when you’re mine_?!”

Derek has to hold back the urge to throw up.

Because she still thinks she has some claim over him, the woman who destroyed his life, and a few weeks ago that was so close to the truth Derek feels sick to his stomach to have to look at her.

And as she takes a step forward, gun in a shaky hand still pointed at them, Derek realizes he has to keep her talking and keep her attention away from Stiles.

So he swallows hard, takes a steady breath, and looks her straight in the eye.

“I didn’t know where you were,” Derek says, and he’s so fucking proud of himself when his voice doesn’t crack, when the disgust and fear and anger he’s feeling doesn’t bleed out in his words.

“What?” Kate asks, eyes snapping to his.

“I looked for you,” Derek says. “I looked for you _everywhere_ , but you were nowhere to be found. I went you your apartment a few days after…,” Derek trails off, his lips pressing together in a thin line. “I went to your apartment and your father told me you left, and I _couldn’t find you anywhere_.”

Derek knows he sounds angry, and he hopes Kate thinks it’s because he wanted to find her, and not because he wanted to find her and _rip her apart_.

“I never forgot you,” Derek tells her, because he never did.

He never forgot how far she fell and how easy it was for her to take everything away from him.

When Kate lowers her arm a little, Derek thinks he’s got her.

He dares to hope for a minute that everything is going to be okay, that they’re going to get through this, that they’re going to be _fine_.

And then she raises her arm back up again, only this time she needs her other hand to keep the gun somewhat steady. Derek looks at her, startled, Stiles tensing again behind his back when she takes two steps forward and pulls her lips back in a snarl.

“I know you’re _lying to me_ ,” Kate yells at him, gun going from Derek to Stiles and back to Derek again. “I know you _love him_! I know you love him more than you ever loved _me_!”

And Derek just looks back at her with his entire body tense and hands fists at his sides, because he does.

He does love Stiles more than he ever loved her.

More than he could ever love her.

More than he could ever love anything or anyone.

“I can see it,” Kate says, and she sounds almost sane now. “I can see it, because _I made you_ and I know when you’re lying to me.”

And Derek thinks that this is it.

This is how he dies.

He only hopes Stiles runs for it when the bullet hits him in the chest, runs for safety and away from her and lets him die with the knowledge that he finally did something right with his life.

But that’s not what happens.

What happens is that Kate goes for something in her jacket pocket, and Derek’s heart freezes when he sees the bottle in her hand.

He can’t bring himself to move when she starts dousing the living room furniture in lighter fluid while she still holds them at gun point.

Derek thinks he could get to her fast enough to disarm her and knock her out, but he can’t bring himself to take a step forward as the smell reaches his nose.

He can’t bring himself to move away from Stiles and to her as she throws the bottle away and takes a lighter from her jeans pocket.

“ _I made you_ ,” Kate says again. “I made you and I know when you’re no good to me anymore.”

Derek takes a step back as soon as the lighter falls from her hand, his eyes squeezing shut when the fire spreads over the living room.

He can’t help but wonder why Kate didn’t shoot him instead, and he almost wants to laugh out loud at himself when he realizes he’d rather take a bullet to the head instead of _this_.

Instead of _burning_.

But he figures it’s fitting, burning away like all the good things in his life.

Derek doesn’t realize someone is screaming at him until he feels a hand connect hard with his cheek, and he blinks up to find Stiles kneeling over him, tears running down his cheeks as he tries to get Derek up.

He braces himself with one hand while Stiles pulls at his arm, trying to remember when he fell to the floor or why he’s in the hallway instead of in the living room, away from the fire, away from where he’s supposed to be.

Derek thinks he blacks out again, because now he’s being forced through Laura’s open bedroom window, Stiles hands on his shoulders as they both stumble into the fire escape, black smoke trailing behind.

Stiles keeps an arm around Derek’s waist as they climb down, and Derek is grateful for it because he doesn’t find that his limbs are cooperating much, not right now, not with the blood ringing in his ears and the taste of ash in his mouth.

He doesn’t know how long it takes until they’re on the ground again, until Stiles makes him keep moving, until he can finally focus on his surroundings again.

The first thing that comes to Derek’s mind when he can finally get his eyes to linger on things and his ears to stop ringing, is why there are so many police squad cars outside of his apartment building.

The second thing is why Laura is screaming and crying and trying to punch a police officer in the face.

And the third is why there are three men trying to restrain the Sheriff of Beacon Hills as he yells something at all of them.

It takes him a little while to tune in to what the Sheriff is saying, and it isn’t until Stiles stumbles closer to the commotion that the jumbled mess of sounds coming from the Sheriff turns into _let me go_ and _my son is in there_ and _I have to get inside_.

Derek is glad Stiles choses this moment to fall to the ground, both of their knees cracking painfully against the concrete as they sag into each other.

He startles when Stiles starts screaming back.

When he starts calling for _Dad_ and _Laura_ and _we’re here_ , clutching to Derek’s shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping him here.

And then suddenly Derek is being wrapped up in a hug, arms going around him and Stiles, his head resting against someone’s shoulder as another person puts a blanket over him.

He can hear Laura’s voice saying _he’s okay_ , the Sheriff joining in with a _everything is going to be alright_ , both of them coming together with a _you’re both safe now_.

But Derek knows he can’t be safe, not until she’s-

“Kate?” Derek tries to say, coughing into his fist when the words dry out on his mouth.

Laura and the Sheriff seem to get it though, both looking over their shoulders to the multitude of cars parked outside.

Laura is the one that says it, though.

“They caught her,” she says, choking on a sob, looking from him to Stiles before hugging them both again. “They caught her. She’s not going to hurt us anymore. We’re safe. _We’re safe_.”

Derek chokes back on his own tears then, slumping sideways into Stiles’, his face pressed against his shoulder and neck.

The paramedics come to check on them just as Derek is starting to calm down, and that’s when he realizes he has a death grip on Stiles’ shirt, and no reassurances from anyone around them saying that it’s okay to let go is enough to get Derek away from him.

He would feel bad about it if it wasn’t for Stiles’ reluctance to do the same.

They don’t even let go of each other as they’re loaded in the ambulance, hands clasps tight together as they drive to the hospital.

Derek learns a lot of things when they get there.

He learns that the Nurse McCall who keeps checking his oxygen levels is Scott’s mother, and that her smile is just as nice as her son’s.

He learns that Stiles used his phone to call the station, and that they contacted the Sheriff and half the force as soon as they heard Kate’s voice on the phone.

He learns that Laura packs a mean punch, the police officers getting his nose set in the gurney next to him standing proof.

He learns that Kate tried to get away as soon as she saw the police cars, going as far as drawing her gun and shooting at them.

He learns to calm Stiles down from a panic attack, keeping a steady hand on the back of his neck and talking about new cake recipes they can try as Stiles tries to get his heart rate and breathing in check.

He learns that when Kate shot at the police officers, they shot her back.

She didn’t make it.

He learns that relief doesn’t feel as good as he thought it would when he sees Allison crying quietly into Scott’s shoulder as they sit in the waiting room.

He learns that it doesn’t take much for the doctors to let him and Stiles share a room, and that no one bats an eye when Stiles climbs into his bed instead of the one set up for him, faced pressed against Derek’s neck and hand resting just above his heart.

He learns that sleep comes a little easier that night.

The next morning when they give their statements, he learns that the Sheriff is proud of him; for trying to keep his son safe, for not giving in to his anger and snapping her in half.

And as he sweeps his eyes through their hospital room and takes in Laura and the Sheriff talking quietly by the window, Allison, Isaac, and Danny on Stiles’ empty bed, Boyd in a chair with Erica on his lap, Jackson leaning against the wall with his arms wrapped around Lydia’s waist as he leans on him, Scott sitting by the end of Derek’s bed, and Stiles still curled up by his side, he learns that Kate might have taken his old family from him, but no one is going to take him away from this one.


	8. Final Act: Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of things happen and all of them are _good_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!!!

“You know you don’t have to do this,” Allison says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Derek looks at her looking at her feet and holding a small bouquet of flowers tightly to her chest, and he doesn’t fight the sad smile tugging at his lips.

“I don’t mind,” Derek tells her, because he honestly doesn’t.

He knows that even though Scott did this on the handful of times Allison asked him, he didn’t really feel comfortable with the idea of her being here.

Of her having to do this at all.

“I know Laura doesn’t like it when you come here,” Allison says, snapping her eyes to his. “Stiles, too.”

“It’s because they don’t understand,” Derek says readily, because this is not the first time they’ve had this argument. “There was a time when we loved her, and what she did doesn’t really change what we felt.”

It took a really long time and long hours of therapy sessions for Derek to get that. 

To come to terms that it was okay for him to both love her and hate her at the same time, that the person he met when he was sixteen wasn’t the same he met again three months after that and then again last year.

Stiles helped a lot with that, after Derek learned to use his words and talked to him about everything he was feeling until he couldn’t anymore, and then holding him close and telling him he loved him when the nightmares came.

Boyd, Erica, and Isaac helped by letting Derek take charge of things. Letting him rebuild what she broke and make something tangible and _good_ out of if by getting the garage back on its feet.

Danny helped by not letting him lose himself again, always cutting him back if he thought Derek had had enough to drink and telling him about all the different people he met at Jungle whenever Derek looked like he was getting lost in his own head.

Lydia, on the rare occasions she flew down to Beacon Hills, helped him by not taking his shit and not letting him feel sorry for himself. The amount of times she told him to stop moping because he was depressing her or that if Stiles loved him there was obviously something more to him than the whole wallowing on self-pity thing he had going on, were only short of the ones where she took one look at him and let the corners of her lips twitch up.

Derek still doesn’t know what that almost-smile means, and by the way Stiles always looks a little stunned when she does it he figures he doesn’t really want to know.

Scott helped like Derek figures he does everything, with a punch on the shoulder and asking him if he wanted to play video games. As it turns out, shooting things on screen does a lot to help him with his anger, and Derek finds out that the reason Scott knows that is because it helped him deal with it when his dad left.

Laura helped by dragging him to the woods with work gloves and letting him take a hammer to the walls of their old house, watching with a sick sense of satisfaction as the ash rose from the ground every time they took something apart.

Allison helped most of all, being someone who knew who Kate was before everything. Who could understand how it was possible to love someone and hate them at the same time, to be sad that they’re dead and so fucking relieved you could cry.

Allison helped, and as they both stand outside the cemetery gate, Derek hopes he can be of the same help for her.

“I’m sorry for what she did,” Allison whispers.

Derek doesn’t hesitate to get a hand around her arm and pull her to him, hugging her and running a hand over her hair, much like he does for Laura. He can’t help but feel sad that their easy friendship came from something so horrible, but at the same time he’s also glad he has someone who _understands_.

Because as much as Stiles loves him and is there for him, he still can’t quite grasp Derek’s feelings towards Kate. He can’t quite understand how he could still feel anything at all for her, towards her, after what she did.

Unlike Allison.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Derek tells to the top of her head.

Allison sometimes still has a hard time with this, with knowing what Kate was capable of, and out of all of their friends Derek is the one who handles her bad days better.

It brings an endless source of amusement to Derek the way Scott reacts to him whenever Allison will lash out at anyone who comes near her but will barely glare at Derek when he sits down next to her on her and Scott’s old couch and offers her a beer.

Derek tries not to laugh at the glares Scott sends his way, and then at the way his face falls in understanding that the only reason Derek knows how to deal with any of this is because he loved Kate just as much as he hated her, and that that’s exactly how Allison feels.

So when he heard Scott talking to Stiles about Allison wanting to come to the cemetery, he offered to take her.

He’s been doing this for two months now, and every time she tells him he doesn’t need to be here.

Derek never goes away.

* * *

“Derek?”

Isaac rolls his eyes, shooing Derek with one hand as Stiles’ footsteps get closer and closer.

“Just go,” Isaac says. “I think I can handle setting up the table by myself.”

“Are you sure?” Derek raises an eyebrow at him. “Because Boyd is not above killing you if you mess up his work space.”

“I’m really not,” Boyd sticks his head through the open office door, staring blankly at both of them.

“Could you guys please stop talking about murder in front of me?” Stiles sighs, appearing right next Boyd. “I’m the Sheriff’s son, you know.”

Erica snorts at that, coming up behind Stiles and poking him in the ribs before kissing Boyd on the cheek.

“They just unloaded the new sign,” Erica says. “They want you up front to tell them how you want it set up.”

“Alright,” Boyd nods at her, stopping to point a finger at Isaac. “No messing up my stuff.”

“Ye of little faith,” Isaac shakes his head, rolling his eyes when Boyd just looks blankly at him. “I am a mechanic, you know. I actually _work_ for you. So you know better than anyone that I’m totally capable of putting things together.”

Boyd just raises an eyebrow at him.

“I won’t mess up your table,” Isaac holds his hands up in surrender.

“Good,” Boyd tells him, then turns to Derek and Stiles. “No having sex in my garage.”

“Derek owns half of it, though,” Stiles points out, taking a step back when Boyd glares at him. “Not that that matters, because we won’t be having sex here anyways.”

“And also because Boyd is going to buy it back from me as soon as he can,” Derek adds, and then looks at Boyd. “I also heard I’m selling cheap.”

“You should,” Erica says, smirking at all of them. “Considering the things we have to put up with when it comes to you two.”

“Hey,” Stiles frowns at her. “We are _awesome_.”

“You two are disgusting,” Isaac says, blowing his curls away from his face as he tries to piece a drawer together.

“We are _not_ ,” Stiles says, indignant.

“Yes, you are,” Boyd says, and shakes his head at him when he opens his mouth to protest. “I’m dating Erica, I should know.”

Stiles just blinks at him, eyes jumping from him to Erica’s hand firmly placed on Boyd’s lower stomach to the way Erica has her chest pressed flushed against Boyd’s side.

“Oh my god,” Stiles turns to Derek, eyes wide. “We’re disgusting.”

Derek snorts a laugh at that, grabbing Stiles by the wrist and pulling him closer until he can give him a kiss.

“I don’t really care,” Derek says against Stiles’ lips, humming contently when Stiles gets his hands on his hair.

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out, tongue flicking to trace Derek’s top lip. “Me neither.”

“You’re still not having sex here,” Boyd says, narrowing his eyes at them.

“Fine,” Stiles throws his arms up in defeat. “Can we go watch them put up the sign, though? Derek still hasn’t told me what you’re naming the garage.”

“As long as you don’t meddle,” Erica shrugs at him.

“I don’t _meddle_ ,” Stiles points a finger at her. “I _help_.”

Derek tries not to laugh when Erica, Boyd and Isaac just stare at Stiles, unblinking.

“You are all terrible friends,” Stiles says loudly, burrowing closer to Derek.

“Come on,” Derek says, throwing an arm around Stiles shoulder. “Let’s all go see them set up the new sign.”

Isaac stops what he’s doing and is the first one out of the office, Boyd and Erica trailing behind him. Derek makes a move to follow them, stopping to stare at Stiles quizzically when he puts a hand on Derek’s chest and shakes his head at him.

“What?” Derek asks, frowning at him.

“I need to do something,” Stiles whispers, biting down on his bottom lip.

“We’re not having sex here,” Derek immediately shuts him down.

“I didn’t say I needed to do _you_ ,” Stiles pinches one of Derek’s nipples, rolling his eyes when Derek jumps back and scowls at him. “I said I needed to do _something._ ”

Before Derek can ask him what it is, Stiles reaches up behind him and comes up with a whiteboard and a black marker.

“I thought Boyd said he didn’t want another whiteboard,” Derek says, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

It would only encourage Stiles.

Derek shakes his head at him in amusement, not saying anything as Stiles looks down at his artwork before securing it in front of the office door and smiling proudly at himself. The design has the same words as the old one lost in the fire, the words “Bossman Boyd & the Golden Twins + Bright Eyes” written across it, only this time Stiles decided to add a little kiss mark at the right bottom corner.

“Can we go see the sign, now?” Derek asks, lips twitching when Stiles sloths himself against him and presses his face against the side of Derek’s neck. “I thought you were curious as to find out what we’re naming the place.”

“I can’t believe you actually kept it a secret,” Stiles says, pulling back to rub their noses together.

Derek just smirks at him, leading Stiles out of the office and to the front of the shop.

They walk up to where Erica, Isaac, and Boyd are standing, all looking up to the people trying to set up the sign.

Boyd has his arms crossed over his chest and a small smile on his lips, while Erica and Isaac both have their heads slightly tilt to the left side, considering look on their faces, their curly hair looking an even lighter blond in the afternoon sun, and for the first time since Derek met them he can see why Stiles calls them the Golden Twins.

They all look away from the sign at the choked up sound Stiles makes when he sees it, smiles breaking across their faces at the horrified look on Stiles’ face.

“I cannot believe you did that,” Stiles says in a strangled voice, eyes still glued above him. “I _cannot_. Believe it. It’s impossible. This is a joke. You’re all joking. And it’s not funny and I want you to stop.”

“It’s not a joke,” Derek says, resting a hand on the back of Stiles’ neck when he tears his gaze from the sign and looks at Derek, all wide-eyed and terrified. “And it’s okay.”

“Derek’s the one who came up with the idea,” Erica says, and when Derek looks at her he thinks she actually looks kind of proud.

“And it was a good one,” Boyd offers.

“And you _agreed_?” Stiles says, flailing as he turns to gape at Boyd. “I thought you were the sensible one.”

Boyd just shrugs at him, looking up at the sign once again.

“I think it’s cool,” Isaac says, scratching at his chin before waving a hand in front of him. “Taking what happened and turning it into a joke and all that. It’s like telling people that it’s okay. That it happened but we’re okay, we’re here, we’ve made it.”

“What Isaac said,” Derek tilts his chin up at Isaac in acknowledgment, because that’s exactly what this is.

This is Derek’s way of letting everybody know that he _survived_.

And more importantly, that he’s _okay_.

And that he’s ready to move on.

It might not be much, and it might sound ridiculous to other people, but this is his way of telling himself that for the first time in a really long time things are okay.

The sign is simple, silver and black and to the point.

_Hall of Flames._

He knows that every time he will come into work and see those words staring back at him, he’ll feel at peace.

Because Derek might have come from fire, but it doesn’t define who he is anymore.

And as Stiles stares back at him and nods, Derek knows he gets it.

* * *

“We’re not painting the bedroom _purple_ ,” Derek points a finger at Stiles and Laura. “And that’s final.”

“But Derek,” Laura starts only to be interrupted by Stiles saying, “It’s called _Gloaming_ , not _purple_.”

“I don’t care what is called,” Derek crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not doing it.”

“I’m going to be living here too, you know,” Stiles looks up from his computer to narrow his eyes at Derek, gesturing at the empty room they are in.

“And that’s why we’re painting the kitchen brown,” Derek tells him, ignoring when Stiles mutters “It’s called _Warm Nutmeg_ ” to glare at Laura. “I don’t even know why you’re here.”

“Stiles asked me to come,” Laura says, and then raises an eyebrow at him. “Because you clearly have no taste when it comes to picking color schemes.”

“Do you want the house?” Derek asks her, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Because if it gets you to go away, I’ll gladly give it to you.”

“What?” Stiles shrieks, almost letting his laptop fall off his lap. “No, you won’t!”

“I don’t want the house,” Laura rolls her eyes at him. “You know that. You were there when we talked about it and I decided to let you have it so you and Stiles could move in together and not have sex anywhere near my living room table ever again.”

“That was one time,” Stiles sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“One time too many,” Laura narrows her eyes at both of them.

Derek looks skyward, wondering what he ever did to get a sister like Laura.

They decided to rebuild the house right after the time the garage started coming together. It didn’t take nearly as long as Derek thought it would to get it fixed, and he still remembers the day Laura just threw the house keys at him and said, “You can use one of the rooms for Foxy’s things.”

Derek wasn’t as nervous as he thought he would be when he told Stiles about it and asked him if he wanted to move out of his apartment and into a house with Derek.

It wasn’t like they weren’t already living together, with how Laura, after the fire and after overstaying hers and Derek’s welcome at Isaac’s place, found an apartment for her in another building where the place next door was miraculously available.

“This is supposed to happen,” Laura said when they went to check the place out. “You shouldn’t offend the universe by not moving in.”

And who were they to offend the universe.

So it wasn’t really a big deal as everyone seemed to think when Derek brought up the question, or when Stiles said yes.

Although, the way Stiles held him down and rode him on the renovated bare kitchen floor when Derek took him to see the finished house is still on of Derek’s favorite things to think about whenever he’s jerking off.

Not that he does it much anymore.

Not when he has Stiles.

“I can’t believe you’re this bad already,” Stiles complains. “Imagine when we have to go IKEA and buy furniture.”

Derek’s eyes widen at that, and suddenly his future looks really dark and scary and filled with curtain patterns and weird-shaped tables and lamps that don’t look like lamps.

“Oh, wow,” Laura says in awe. “It’s like you can see the terror building behind his eyes.”

“Laura, take your car and go somewhere that’s not here,” Stiles tells her, not sparing her a glance when he puts his laptop on the floor, gets up, and comes to stand in front of Derek, taking his face between his hands. “You’re not backing out from this.”

Derek blinks at him, vaguely aware of Laura muttering something under her breath as she leaves the room, her footsteps echoing over the empty house as she walks down the stairs, and the front door opening and closing.

He feels so completely out of his element at the moment that he doesn’t even know what to say to Stiles, who just keeps looking at him like he wants to physically beat some sense into Derek.

“You’re not backing out from living with me, and you’re not backing out from making this house a home again,” Stiles says, tone serious. “I know it sounds scary that we have to do this, and we’re probably going to disagree a lot and fight even more, but I want you to know that in the end what we’ll have is our space, our _house_ that we build together. And it’s going to be beautiful and cozy and make all of our friends jealous, so stop looking like you’re about to walk to your death, okay babe?”

Derek swallows hard and blinks at Stiles before slowly nodding his head, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Stiles lets a relieved breath, resting their foreheads together. “Good.”

“I still don’t want to paint the bedroom purple,” Derek says, and his voice sounds weak to his own ears.

Stiles laughs at him, eyes crinkling at the corners when he pulls back to look at Derek and shake his head.

“It’s called _Gloaming_ ,” Stiles tells him, placing a kiss at the corner of Derek’s mouth when Derek just scrunches his nose up at him. “And I think I can be persuaded.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, because persuading he can do. “Really?”

“Maybe,” Stiles shrugs a shoulder, smirking at Derek. “It depends on you, really.”

“I can be persuasive,” Derek tells him, pulling him closer until they’re pressed flushed together, rolling his hips just _right_ to make his point across.

“I’m sure you can,” Stiles whispers against Derek’s lips, his hands moving from Derek’s face to weave his through his hair, angling Derek’s face just right so he can mash their mouths together.

Derek smiles into the kiss, opening up and letting Stiles lick into his mouth when teeth nip softly at his bottom lip, asking for entrance.

He likes how easy this is, even after over a year of them being together. How they know each other’s bodies and what gets them going. How they fall into a rhythm made just for them without a second thought.

Derek likes when Stiles arches into his body when he lets a hand slip under Stiles’ shirt, how they keep moving their hips just so as Derek’s palm runs up and down the smooth skin of Stiles’ back, nails biting at the soft skin of his ribs.

He swallows Stiles’ low moans with his lips and tongue, moving down to mouth at his jaw and bite at his neck, pushing the collar of his shirt to the side so he can suck marks into his collarbone.

“I have lube in my bag,” Stiles pants against his ear, biting down on the lobe before moving to the skin just under Derek’s ear, placing a light kiss there. “Since, you know, we never really got around to christening every room in the house.”

Derek smothers a laugh against Stiles’ shoulder, pulling back when Stiles tugs a little at his hair.

“What do you think, bright eyes?” Stiles asks, raising an eyebrow at him. “You up for it?”

Derek eyes the bare floor before looking back at Stiles, pursing his lips together, “I don’t want you to skin your knees or anything.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles rolls his eyes. “It’ll be fine.”

“You’re the one who complained for hours after the last time we did this,” Derek points out.

“I did _not_ ,” Stiles huffs, swatting Derek on the shoulder.

“Look how raw and red my skin is, babe,” Derek says, and he thinks he should be a little scared of how much he sounds like Stiles right now.

“My knees really were red, though.”

“We’re never going to have sex on the floor again, I’m sorry,” Derek keeps going.

“I was obviously lying, I don’t know why you have to bring it up.”

“I know it was awesome but my skin is too sensitive for this,” Derek says, and then back to his normal tone, “It was pretty good, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at him again, grabbing Derek by the back of his neck and kissing him soundly on the lips.

“You can fuck me up against the wall if it’ll make you feel better,” Stiles bats his lashes at him, smiling wickedly when Derek lets his forehead drop against his shoulder and groans. “Or we could use one of the blankets I hid on the closet right behind you the last time I was here.”

Derek pulls back to stare at him.

“I thought I’d be prepared,” Stiles says, shrugging. “You know, in case we decided to have more sex in our new house. Which is obviously going to happen, so.”

“I think things like this are the reason why I love you,” Derek blinks dumbly at him.

“Please,” Stiles snorts. “You only want me for my nail polishes and cocksucking skills.”

Derek is not particularly proud at the way he _whimpers_ at that.

Especially when Stiles just smirks at him, looking incredibly proud of himself.

“You go get the lube and I’ll get the blankets, okay babe?” Stiles says, voice low and husky.

Derek’s only answer is to pull him back into a kiss, open and wet and dirty, grinding their hips together as he gives a final nip to Stiles’ lower lip and pulls away.

Stiles’ bag is in on the floor right next to his computer, and Derek makes a face at it when he kneels down sees the Home Depot paint samples on screen. He decides to ignore it in name of his sanity, going through Stiles’ bag until he finds a bottle of lube hidden on one of the inside pockets.

They decided to stop using condoms about three months ago, but not before having long conversations about what it would mean for them and their relationship and getting copies from their tests results saying they were clean.

When he gets up from the floor, bottle of lube in hand, it’s to see Stiles arranging about five quilts and some throw pillows on the floor.

“Pillows,” Derek says loudly, blinking at the scene in front of him. “There are _pillows_.”

“I’m a sucker for comfort, babe,” Stiles tells him as Derek gets closer. “I figured if I’d be hiding blankets here, why not pillows too?”

“Next you’re going to tell me we have a mattress stuck here somewhere,” Derek shakes his head at him, bending down to place a kiss on the top of Stiles’ head.

“I thought about it,” Stiles says honestly. “But then I figured… better not.”

Derek snorts and throws the bottle of lube in the middle of the makeshift nest, staring down at Stiles with a half-smile on his face as he moves to take off his shoes and socks.

Stiles eyes him the whole time from his place kneeling on the ground, only moving when Derek goes to undo his belt-buckle.

“C’mon,” Stiles says, undoing it for him and wasting no time to get Derek’s jeans unbuttoned and the zipper down. “I did say something about my cocksucking skills.”

Derek’s chuckle gets turned into a moan when Stiles mouths at him through the fabric, moving to lick at the head of Derek’s dick that’s peeking from the waistband of his boxers and leaking precome down his stomach.

Derek gets his shirt off as Stiles moves his hands from Derek’s hips to tug at his jeans until they slide off his legs, letting go of him only long enough so Derek can step out of them.

He can’t help but feel a rush at being completely naked in front of Stiles while Stiles still has all of his clothes on, bringing a hand to cup Stiles’ cheek when he looks up at him from under his lashes.

“Do you wanna do it like this or do you wanna lie down?” Stiles asks, licking at his lips.

As much as Derek likes having Stiles on his knees for him, he figures it’s best for him to be on top of the quilts for this one.

Stiles moves to take off his own shoes as Derek lies down, grabbing one of the throw pillows Stiles brought to lay it under his head.

“No mocking the pillows now, huh?” Stiles smiles smugly, getting a hand on the color of his shirt and pulling it up and off.

“You do have good ideas sometimes,” Derek says, propping himself up on one elbow so he can get a hand behind the back of Stiles’ neck and pull him in for a soft kiss.

Stiles hums against his lips, letting a hand fall down to Derek’s chest and come pinch at his right nipple before pulling back.

Derek spreads his legs without saying anything, making room for Stiles as he starts kissing his way down Derek’s body, his mouth on the same path his hand was on before, pausing to bite and lick Derek’s nipples until they’re red and taunt and Derek is holding Stiles’ head against his chest.

Stiles moves lower then, raking his teeth over the skin of Derek’s ribs, tracing his bellybutton with his tongue, sucking marks on his hips while Derek cants them up, his dick bumping against Stiles’ chest as he looks for friction.

Derek groans when Stiles gets his hands on him first, fingers teasing at the slit and spreading precome over the head and his shaft, just playing with him until Derek can’t really form words anymore, can’t really tell him to _do something_ and _please_.

It takes all of his willpower not to fuck into Stiles’ mouth at the first touch of Stiles’ tongue on him.

He knows he has a death grip of Stiles’ hair as he licks a stripe up from base to tip before sucking the head into his mouth, moaning around him when Derek accidentally pulls at his hair.

“Sorry,” Derek rasps out, letting go of Stiles’ hair and trying not to let out a disappointed noise when Stiles releases him.

“Dude,” Stiles says, voice hoarse and low. “Hair pulling? Totally a thing.”

“Yeah?” Derek breathes out a laugh, letting his fingers trade through the strands again.

“Oh yeah,” Stiles nods, Derek’s breath hitching when the head of his dick bumps against Stiles’ cheek, smearing it with spit and precome. “Totally a thing, like, really, feel free to do it whenever.”

“Okay,” Derek says, palming himself when Stiles doesn’t do anything but just _stares_ at him.

“I’m kind of can’t believe we didn’t know it already,” Stiles says, sounding oddly disappointed. “Like, we’ve been together for over a year and this only comes up now?”

Derek lets Stiles talk, letting his own hand slide up and down himself lazily as he listens.

“It kind of makes me happy that there’s still so much we need to learn about each other, but also kind of bummed out because it took us _this long_ to find out it was a thing?” Stiles says, tilting his head to the side. “I wonder what else we missed.”

“I guess we’ll have to find out,” and by the way Stiles’ eyes snap up to him and then down at Derek’s hand stroking his own dick, he knows he must sound pretty wrecked right now.

Stiles makes a choking sound and bats Derek’s hand away, glaring at him before taking Derek’s dick in his mouth again. He goes back to sucking him off, _hard_ and _fast_ and _sloppy_ , and Derek thinks this feels a lot more like revenge than teasing.

Not that he cares much when Stiles deepthroats him and _swallows_ , pulling shamelessly at Stiles’ hair as he spills down his throat.

Derek can see the dark wet spot on Stiles’ jeans when he gets up from his place between Derek’s spread legs, and he doesn’t even fight the smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips.

Stiles looks up from him to his ruined pants and makes a face, poking at the wet fabric with a finger before extending his hands in front of him in a _what can you do_ gesture.

“Told you hair pulling was a thing.”

Derek shakes his head at him, hooking a finger through Stiles’ belt loops. “Come here.”

Stiles goes willingly, letting Derek pull him closer and manhandle him in place, with his back on the floor and Derek on top of him, mouthing at his neck.

“Can you at least get me out of my wet pants before getting it on with my neck?” Stiles asks, scratching his nails over Derek’s scalp.

Derek’s only response is to bite down at Stiles’ shoulder, moving before Stiles can punch him in the ribs.

He straddles Stiles’ legs and goes to work on getting his pants open, Stiles lifting his hips as Derek pulls his pants and boxers down and moves off of him to get them past this thighs and feet.

Once Stiles is naked, Derek just takes a moment to stare at him.

Sometimes it still takes him off guard that he gets to have Stiles like this. That Stiles loves him and wants to have a life with him and wouldn’t trade him for the world.

He’s thinking about how lucky he is as he dips his head down and starts licking him clean, placing his hand flat over Stiles’ heart, feeling under his palm as Stiles’ heart rate speeds up at every stroke of his tongue.

It doesn’t take long until they’re both hard again, not with Derek’s tongue on Stiles’ ass and every noise Stiles makes going straight to Derek’s dick.

This is about Derek’s favorite thing in the entire world; stretching Stiles up with his tongue, taking his time tasting him and licking him open, letting his fingers join when Stiles starts to push his ass back against Derek’s face, letting choked up gasps of _please_ and _Derek_ and _more_ echoing in Derek’s ears.

Derek is four fingers deep when he comes up to Stiles, catching his mouth in a kiss while Stiles fucks himself eagerly on his fingers, weaving his fingers through Derek’s hair to keep him in place as he sucks Derek’s tongue into his mouth.

“C’mon, bright eyes,” Stiles whispers against Derek’s lips when he pulls back, whining in the back of his throat when Derek slides his fingers in and then completely out of him.

Derek fumbles a little with the lube, slicking himself up and biting down on his bottom lip not to groan.

When he looks back at Stiles is to find him holding his legs up with his hands behind his knees, exposing himself for Derek to take. He has a small smirk on his face, like he knows exactly what seeing him like this does to Derek, and Derek wants to _wreck him_.

In all the best ways possible.

So Derek leans down to rubs their noses together and settles Stiles’ legs over his shoulders, grabbing him by the hips and positioning just as he wants him.

Stiles still has the smirk in place when Derek reaches a hand between them and lines himself up, tilting his head up to catch Derek’s lower lip between his teeth when Derek finally pushes inside.

Derek knows to go slowly, to keep himself still after he bottoms out and wait for Stiles to adjust. He knows to nip at Stiles’ neck and suck Stiles’ earlobe unto his mouth and scratch his nails lightly over Stiles’ ribs until Stiles rocks back against him and says _it’s okay_.

Derek knows to tease him, to give shallow thrusts and kiss him lazily and not rush this. He knows they have the time, how Stiles likes to lie under him, likes the buildup, likes to feel Derek sliding in and out of him slowly.

Derek knows to speed things up when Stiles starts panting against his mouth, bucking his hips and picking up a rhythm that says he doesn’t want to play anymore, that he wants to get fucked and get off and that he’ll do it with or without Derek’s help.

Derek knows Stiles goes quiet when he’s close, mouth opening and closing without producing a sound as he stares up at Derek and meets his thrusts with a roll of his hips, his hand trapped between them as he jacks himself off in time with Derek’s movements.

Derek knows he’ll never _not_ feel overwhelmed at the look on Stiles’ face when he comes, the way he feels clenching around Derek, how he just falls boneless with a contented sigh afterwards, bringing a hand up to cup Derek’s cheek and whispering _come on_ and _that’s it, babe_ and _come for me_ as Derek thrust up and spills inside of him.

They lie down side by side on the quilts as they catch their breath, the afternoon sun streaming down the windows and casting shadows in the room.

“Guess what?” Stiles asks him, voice low and soft.

“What?”

“I think I don’t want the room to be purple anymore.”

Derek smiles up at the celling, throwing his arm around Stiles’ shoulder when he cuddles close and hides his face against Derek’s neck.

“I thought it was called _Gloaming_ ,” Derek teases, only to have Stiles pull back and narrow his eyes at him.

“That’s it,” is the only warning Derek gets before Stiles gets his fingers on his ribs and starts tickling him.

And as Derek is trying to get him to stop turns into round two, Derek doesn’t think he would mind if the room was purple after all.

* * *

“I heard you boys are ready to open the garage in a few weeks,” the Sheriff says as he helps Derek set the table.

“Yeah,” Derek nods, a small smile on his lips. “We just put up the sign a few days ago.”

“I still can’t believe you decided to name it _that_ ,” he rolls his eyes as he sets the last glass in place.

Derek sometimes is still taken aback by how much of Stiles he sees in the Sheriff.

“Stiles didn’t, too,” Derek says, smiling when the Sheriff lets out a snort.

“I understand why you did it, though,” the Sheriff says, clasping Derek on the shoulder. “And I’m proud of you for it, son.”

“Thanks,” Derek tilts his chin at him, both of them walking back into the kitchen.

They get there just as Stiles is finishing up dinner, and he barely glances up before grabbing the salad bowls from the countertop and giving them to his dad.

“I’ll know if you try to dump some of this on the potted plants before getting to the table.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” the Sheriff tells him, all mock innocence.

Stiles only raises an eyebrow at him, unblinking.

“Jesus,” the Sheriff mumbles. “You’re just like your mother.”

There’s a moment of silence at that, only broken by Stiles’ low chuckle as he shakes his head at his dad.

“She would want you to take care of yourself,” he shrugs with a small smile on his lips. “So no dumping the salad.”

“Alright,” the Sheriff nods, putting the bowls back on the countertop before grabbing his son and pulling him into a hug. “I won’t. Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, dad,” Stiles mumbles, eyes smiling as he looks up at Derek from over his dad’s shoulder.

Derek smiles warmly at him, hands stuck in his pockets as he stares at the two of them.

It took him a while to feel comfortable around Stiles and his dad, around the easy sense of family and comfort he lost so long ago.

He’d probably still feel slightly uncomfortable about it if it wasn’t for a conversation he had with the Sheriff a couple of months after Kate’s death, where he actually took Derek aside and told him in no uncertain terms that he and Laura were now part of the Stilinski fold.

And that there was no going back.

So Derek just waits with his hands stuck in his pockets until the Sheriff lets go, clearing his throat before grabbing the bowls again, nodding at Derek and Stiles, and stepping out of the kitchen.

Stiles smiles fondly at his dad’s retreating form, gaze going to Derek when his dad disappears through the door.

Derek steps closer, then.

As comfortable as he is spending time with the Sheriff, he still respects the man.

So it’s not until Derek is sure he is gone that he gets a hand around the back of Stiles’ neck and kisses him, Stiles’ hand resting flat against Derek’s chest as Derek sucks Stiles’ tongue into his mouth.

Stiles hums into the kiss, and Derek can feel the smile against his lips as Stiles pecks him lightly and pulls back.

He doesn’t move his hand away.

“Why don’t you go get the drinks and I’ll bring the rest out?” Stiles says, patting Derek on the chest.

“Yes, ma’am,” Derek says, dipping his head to rub their noses together before moving away and going to the fridge.

The Sheriff is already sitting at the head of the table, raising his eyebrows appreciatively as he eyes Stiles set the food on the table.

“Looking good, son.”

“Sometimes I think you use these weekly dinners only as an excuse to eat my cooking,” Stiles rolls his eyes, glaring at his dad until he goes for the salad bowl and serves himself.

“You’d be right,” the Sheriff replies promptly, smiling when Stiles huffs at him. “It’s not like I enjoy spending time with my only son and my son-in-law.”

Derek doesn’t miss the way Stiles’ face softens every time his dad calls Derek that, just as both Stilinski men never miss the blush starting on Derek’s ears and running down his neck.

It started after they told the Sheriff they’d be moving in to the renewed Hale house as soon as it was finished, and Stiles would sputter and blush and _deny deny deny_ because _it’s not like we’re married_ and _I don’t even know if I’m keeping him yet_.

He stopped with all of that the day they were picking up the Sheriff’s takeout order before going to the station for lunch. The lady at the cash register asked Derek if he was a new deputy, to which he replied that _no, the Sheriff was his father-in-law_.

Stiles smiled all the way to the station and then the drive back home, jumping Derek as soon as they got inside their apartment and closed the door.

“So,” the Sheriff starts, swallowing around a mouthful of food. “How’s the house going?”

Derek almost chokes on his bear, thoughts going back to him fucking Stiles in what’s going to be the master bedroom, remembering how Stiles made them take all of the quilts back to the apartment and wash them clean.

The Sheriff frowns a little when neither of them answers, and Derek looks up from his plate to see that Stiles is staring down at his glass to keep himself from laughing.

“We were looking at paint samples the other day,” Derek offers, kicking Stiles under the table when he snorts.

“I don’t want to know, do I?” the Sheriff asks, looking from Derek’s flushed face to Stiles.

“Probably not,” Stiles says, a little breathless, taking a sip of his drink.

“Paint samples?” the Sheriff prompts when neither of them say anything for a while.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, eyes glinting. “The house is pretty much done, now. All we really need is get around to choosing color schemes and then buy some of the furniture.”

“You bringing things from the apartment?”

“Some of them, yes,” Derek says. “We have some pretty good things there, and we figure it’s easier than buying everything new.”

“Not to mention cheaper,” Stiles offers. “And this way Derek won’t have a mental breakdown over table lamps when we have to buy stuff.”

The Sheriff only looks at him in question, the corner of his lips twitching in amusement.

“Some of them don’t even look like lamps,” Derek mumbles, scowling at his food when the Sheriff laughs at him.

“Stiles,” the Sheriff says, teasing. “Make sure to record it when he tries and inevitably fails to read the instructions and set up whatever new furniture you’re going to make him buy.”

Derek’s gaze snaps up at that, eyes wide as he realizes that that’s a thing he’s going to have to _do_.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, reaching over to take one of Derek’s hands in his own. “You’re getting scared again.”

“Again?” the Sheriff asks, eyebrows arched.

“The prospect of furniture scares him,” Stiles explains, nails biting down against Derek’s palm.

“I’m not afraid of furniture,” Derek grumbles, entwining Stiles’ fingers with his own.

“Then what’s with the wide-eyed terrified look you’ve got going on?” Stiles lifts a finger, gesturing at his own face.

Derek makes a face at him, glancing from Stiles to the Sheriff and then back to his plate. He picks at his food with his free hand, pursing his lips together.

“It’s just,” Derek trails off, clearing his throat before trying again. “There’ll be- It’ll be like- We’ll be filling this _space_ that used to be something with, with _us_. It’ll still be most of the same old house, but _new_ and _ours_ and it’ll be _real_ ,” Derek says, Stiles’ hand tightening with his with each passing word. “It’ll be the most real thing I’ve had in... It’ll be the most real thing I’ve had since I was sixteen.”

Derek thinks he should be embarrassed about saying all of this in front of Stiles and _his dad_ , but after Stiles made him sit down and watch _Field of Dreams_ with them he doesn’t really mind.

At least there are no tears this time.

When he looks up is to find both Stilinskis staring at him, the Sheriff with a look of silent respect and Stiles…

Stiles looks stunned.

Open-mouthed-eyes-wide-like-saucers-speechless kind of stunned.

That is, until he closes his mouth with a snap only to open it again and blurt out, “Marry me.”

Derek doesn’t quite manage to not choke on his beer this time.

* * *

“I can’t believe Stiles proposed over dinner,” Erica snickers, placing her used teabag on top of a napkin. “ _With his dad._ ”

“Honestly,” Laura shakes her head, spreading butter on her toast. “You would think he would’ve chosen a better time.”

“It’s Stiles,” Scott shrugs, stealing a bagel from Allison’s plate. “Derek’s lucky he didn’t propose, like, in the middle of sex or something.”

“I think that would have been better, actually,” Danny says, taking a sip of his orange juice.

“Yeah,” Isaac nods, taking a bite of his banana muffin. “At least it would have been just both of them there.”

“I think it was sweet,” Allison scowls at them. “That he just blurted out the question like that; like he couldn’t _not_ ask Derek to marry him.”

“I still can’t believe Derek said no,” Boyd says, taking a bite of his apple.

“We are sitting right here, you know,” Stiles grumbles, frowning down at his coffee.

“And the only reason why I said no is because we’ve had this conversation already,” Derek sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“We did?” Stiles blinks at him as the entire table goes quiet and they all focus on Derek. “No, we didn’t.”

“Yep, we did,” Derek raises an eyebrow at him. “Laura was even present.”

“I was?” Laura looks up at him, surprised.

“She was?” Stiles repeats.

“Yes,” Derek sighs again.

“When?” Stiles asks, voice high.

“It was right after I told Laura,” Derek trails off, and then shakes his head. “You told me you expected flowers and there was talk of a _ridiculous expensive ring_ and _fireworks_ and _dressing up_ when I proposed to you.”

Erica opens her mouth but Derek silences with a hand.

“Yes,” Derek says. “By dressing up he meant _in drag_.”

Erica brings up a hand to cover her mouth, while Allison lets out something that could be interpreted as a squeak and bites down on her lower lip, her eyes shining.

“Oh,” Laura says, understanding dawning in her face. “ _Oh_.”

“Yes,” Derek says again, turning fully to face Stiles as he gapes from his seat by Derek’s side. “So that’s why I said no. Because when I do propose to you I want you to have everything you want and not just say yes when you blurt out the question in the middle of dinner. _With your dad_.”

It says a lot about how far Derek’s come this past year that he doesn’t even bat an eye at the completely fucking _cheesy_ things he’s saying.

Not when it makes Stiles entire face light up and his smile go soft and he brings a hand up to trace the skin beneath Derek’s eye with his fingers and makes Derek forget that they’re in a crowded coffee shop on a Friday morning and all of their friends are staring at them.

“You said when,” Stiles whispers, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“What?” Derek blinks at him, confused.

“When,” Stiles says again, a little louder this time, smiling bigger. “You said when.”

“Is this going to be like that time in the parking lot?” Derek asks him.

Stiles actually laughs at him, loud and bright and with his entire body, and he’s still smiling when he cups Derek’s face between his hands and pulls him in for a kiss.

He’s still smiling when he pulls back, their noses still touching, his warm breath ghosting over Derek’s lips as he says, “You said _when_ you propose to me.”

“Oh,” Derek breathes out, lips twitching when Stiles rolls his eyes and mouths ‘oh’ back at him. “I did say that.”

“Yep,” Stiles nods, licking his lips. “You did.”

Derek makes a thoughtful sound at the back of his throat, resting a hand on top of Stiles’ knee.

“And do you have any idea what kind of answer you’d give?” Derek asks, eyes going from Stiles’ eyes to his mouth and back again. “ _When_ I propose to you?”

“I do,” Stiles says, and Derek is pretty sure his heart stops; that is until Stiles continues. “Have an idea of what kind of answer I’d give you,” and then he shrugs. “But I guess you’ll just have to wait until you actually propose to me to find out.”

And just like that he’s letting go of Derek and turning back in his seat, beaming at their friends before grabbing his mug and taking a sip of his coffee.

Derek stays like he is for a few seconds, too shocked to move or even say anything as he stares at Stiles’ profile, his smile still in place as he drinks.

He only snaps out of it when he hears Laura asking someone if they ‘got it’, and when he looks back at the table is to find Allison with her phone out and aimed at them.

“What?”

“This is going to be on your wedding video,” is all Allison says before she sets her phone down on the table, flashing her dimples at him.

Derek narrows her eyes at her, but gets distracted when Scott turns to Stiles and asks, “Does this mean I get to be your best man?”

“Wouldn’t dream of asking anyone else, buddy,” Stiles says, actually extending a closed fist in front of him for Scott to bump.

Derek can’t help but roll his eyes when they both move away smiling.

“Who’s going to be Derek’s best man?” Erica asks, resting her chin on her hand as she drinks her tea.

“Me,” Laura says at the same time Derek answers, “Laura.”

Even though she called it, Laura still looks a bit surprised, blinking at Derek until he sighs and looks pointedly right back at her.

“You’re actually the reason we met,” Derek tells her, lips twitching as he remember Stiles’ chipped nail blue polish.

“And you’re the one who suggested Derek to help me become Foxy so we could spend more time together,” Stiles adds.

“And you’re also the one who made me realize I was in love with him,” Derek continues.

“So really, Laura,” Stiles smirks at her, shifting in his seat that his side is pressed against Derek’s chest. “This is all your fault.”

“Which is why you’re going to me my best woman,” Derek raises an eyebrow at her, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing when Laura actually _preens_ at that.

“You know, when Derek proposes and if I say yes,” Stiles pipes up.

“If?” Derek turns to him, eyebrow raised.

“Well, yes,” Stiles says, taking a sip of his coffee. “I gotta keep the mystery going.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Erica snorts, but when Derek looks back at her he can see the small smile on her face.

“Oh, please,” Stiles rolls his eyes at her. “Like you’re not already planning our wedding.”

“I should probably call Lydia about it,” Allison muses out loud.

“Oh god,” Stiles drops his head on the table. “ _Lydia_.”

“What about her?” Derek frowns at him, sliding his hand between Stiles’ forehead and the wood when Stiles lifts his head up only to drop it again.

“She’s _Lydia_ ,” Stiles whines, hitting his head on the table one more time. “Once she finds out we’re getting married she’s going to come here and _highjack my wedding_.”

“Highjack your wedding?” Derek repeats, trying not to let his amusement show.

“ _Yes_ ,” and Derek can almost see Stiles pouting. “She’s going to try and intimidate her way into planning it and then I’ll never have the superhero themed wedding I’ve always dreamed about.”

Derek can see Isaac and Danny hiding their snickers behind their hands, while Erica, Laura, and Allison fall on themselves giggling. He doesn’t know if he should be worried by that fact that Boyd merely looks at them with interest while Scott shakes his head at Stiles and says, “Dude, that sucks.”

“You’re joking, right?” Derek asks, because he really can’t tell this time.

“And miss my chance to see you in tights?” Stiles finally lifts his head up to stare at Derek with a hurtful look on his face. “ _Never_.”

“You’re going to make me dress up as Captain America, aren’t you?” Derek sighs, wondering when he lost the ability to ever deny Stiles anything.

“It’s not that you wouldn’t make a good Iron Man,” Stiles pats him reassuringly on the cheek. “It’s just that I make a better one.”

“Are we talking different universes here?” Erica asks, looking interested. “Because I wanna go as Catwoman.”

“Nightwing,” Danny pipes up.

“Oh, _nice_ ,” Stiles says appreciatively.

“Thanks,” Danny smiles at him, dimples showing.

“I guess that’s a yes, then,” Erica smirks at them, turning to Boyd. “You’re going as Batman.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Boyd nods, lips curling in a smile.

“Joker,” Isaac says, flashing them the creepiest smile Derek’s ever seen when all of them just look at him in surprise.

“ _Dude_ ,” Scott breathes out. “That’s _uncanny._ ”

“Thank you,” Isaac says, winking at him.

“Lydia will want to go as Poison Ivy,” Allison mutters only loud enough for them to hear, and then smiles. “I’ll be Hawkeye.”

“Your affinity for arrows scares me,” Stiles tells her, shuddering.

“I think it’s hot,” Scott says, smiling at Allison before turning to Stiles. “Can I be Deadpool?”

“You can totally be Deadpool,” Stiles nods. “Lydia is probably going to make Jackson be The Hulk or something. So they can _match_.”

“You guys think I’d make a good Wonder Woman?” Laura asks Allison and Erica, frowning a little.

“Yes,” they both say in unison.

“You do put up with Derek,” Allison says with a sweet smile. “I know that’s not easy.”

“True,” Laura sighs, sticking her tongue out at Derek when he only glares at them.

“Think I can convince dad to be Magneto?” Stiles bites down on his lower lip.

“Just tell him he gets to wear a cape,” Scott shrugs.

Stiles turns to Derek, looking at him in question.

“Or just tell him he’s allowed to go in his sheriff uniform.”

“You are no help,” Stiles huffs at him.

Derek snorts out a laugh and gets his arm around Stiles’ shoulder, pulling him closer until he can press a kiss to his temple.

“I have to propose to you first,” Derek mumbles, smiling against Stiles’ skin.

“You better do it soon,” Stiles angles his head so he can press his face against the side of Derek’s neck. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of forever with you.”

“That was so cheesy,” Derek teases, hissing when Stiles clamps his teeth on the skin of his shoulder.

“That was beautiful,” Stiles says, mouthing at Derek’s jaw. “And you know it.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, pulling back only so he can brush his lips against Stiles’. “And I can’t wait to spend the rest of forever with you, too.”

And as Stiles beams and kisses him, Derek thinks that if this is what forever looks like, then count him in.

* * *

“I’m not going to pretend tonight is about anything other than the opening of Hall of Flames this Monday,” Stiles says into the mic, smiling at the crowd as they cheer. “Yes, yes, I know. They’re hot, we missed them, and we’re glad to have them back so we can have something to look at while having our cars fixed, blah blah blah.”

Derek shakes his head as Erica lets out a snort, Boyd rolling his eyes while Isaac just beams at the stage.

In two days they’re going to officially open the doors to Hall of Flames, getting back into business after more than a year away, and Derek is kind of surprised at his eagerness to go back to working with them.

He never really realized how much he missed fixing cars and painting alongside Erica, Isaac, and Boyd until they decided on an opening date and Derek found himself more and more anxious to go back to their easy banter and work ethic and just being able to be around cars all day.

Derek looks back up to the stage, taking Stiles in his auburn [wig](http://img1.etsystatic.com/009/0/6885641/il_570xN.410371041_3ao1.jpg) with honey highlights and bangs, eyes lined with heavy eyeliner and black eyeshadow, nails painted black and silver, wearing sequin back [shorts](http://www.necessaryclothing.com/detail.asp?pfid=NCC00414&keepThis=true&TB_iframe=true&width=880&height=1180) paired up with laced up black [boots](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0084YPVDK/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=211189&creative=373489&creativeASIN=B0084YPVDK&link_code=as3&tag=cutecombatboots-20), a tight black sleeveless shirt with the Hall of Flames logo in silver sequin sewed to the front, and what Derek’s pretty sure is the leather jacket Stiles stole from Laura back at the beginning of all of this.

“But tonight is also about telling people that _we’re okay_ , that _we’re here_ , and that _we survived_ ,” and it’s not until Stiles says the last part that Derek realizes he’s quoting Isaac from the day they put of the sign on the shop. “That we’ve been through some rough patches but got back up again, stronger than we were before. Tonight is about not letting anyone but yourself define who you really are, and it’s about mending the pieces back together and starting over, a little less broken a lot lighter and brighter and happier than before.”

Derek knows he’s probably sporting the most ridiculously fond smile ever on his face, but as Stiles locks eyes with him and gives him a soft smile and a wink just as the music begins, he doesn’t really find in himself to care.

Stiles turns back to stare at the audience as the song continues, moving his shoulders as the lyrics join the beat with _you know the bed feels warmer, sleeping here alone_. Derek raises an eyebrow at that, getting distracted as Laura pulls him to dance and Stiles keeps going, _you know I dream in color and do the things I want._

Allison steps up to them as the beat speeds up, _you think you got the best of me_ , Derek grabbing her by the hand and twirling her around, _you think you had the last laugh_ , Laura hip checking him and throwing her arms around Allison, _bet you think everything good is gone_. Erica joining in with Boyd in tow, _think you left me broken down_ , her curls bouncing as she wraps her arms around Allison and Laura and the three of them dance together while Boyd smiles at Derek, _think that I’d come running back_ , and Scott getting an arm around Derek’s shoulders as Isaac elbows him in the ribs, _baby you don’t know me cause you’re dead wrong._

And Stiles jumping off the stage and joining them as _what doesn’t kill you makes you_[ _stronger_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xn676-fLq7I), smiling and moving his hips, _stand a little taller_ , Laura getting a hand on Derek’s arm and pulling him until he’s standing right next to Stiles, _doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone_ , the girls grabbing the Isaac, Boyd and Scott and they all making a cocoon around the two of them, _what doesn’t kill you makes you a fighter_ , and they’re all laughing and singing and jumping, _footsteps even lighter_ , Stiles grabbing him by the back of his neck and kissing him, _doesn’t mean I’m over now that you’re gone._

Eventually Stiles goes back to the stage to finish his performance, the people around the club dancing and cheering as he moves his hips and sing and taunts them and flips his hair over his shoulder.

Derek does feels a lot happier and lighter tonight than he has in the past year, with his sister and his friends and the guy he loves all laughing and smiling around him.

He leaves them by the bar when Stiles hops off the stage, and helps him get out of his clothes and wig and makeup, stopping to kiss him and grope him and blow him against one of the dressing room tables and he kneels on the floor.

When they finally come out is to find Isaac behind the bar with Danny and Erica and get two cocktails shoved in their faces by Scott, who just takes one look at them and makes a face.

“You just had sex in the dressing room, didn’t you?”

“Do you really want an answer to that?” Stiles looks at him pointedly while Derek just outright says, “Yes.”

Because Scott turned out to be the little brother Derek never really knew he wanted, and if there’s one thing he learned from Laura is that you should absolutely make your younger brother’s life a living hell every chance you get.

“ _Dude_ ,” Scott says, sounding betrayed. “I thought we were bros.”

“Then don’t ask me questions you don’t really want to know the answer to,” Derek clasps a hand on his shoulder and directs them to the free stools by where Laura and Allison are sitting.

“Stiles,” Scott whines, letting his head drop on Allison’s shoulder. “Your boyfriend is mean.”

“It’s a good thing he gives good head, then,” Stiles says delightedly, smiling at Scott when he makes retching sounds and drags Allison with him to bug Isaac and at Laura when she chokes on her drink.

“I do _not_ want to know that,” Laura scrunches her face up in disgust.

“But Laura,” Stiles says sweetly, and this is why Derek loves Stiles so much. “You should be proud of your brother’s ability to deepthroat. It’s not everyone who’s capable of taking dick that far down-”

Laura doesn’t stay to hear the rest of that sentence, setting her drink on the bar and walking as far away from Stiles and as fast as she can while wearing heels and being a bit drunk while saying things like _oh my god_ and _why did I ever encourage this_  and _I can’t never unhear that_.

Stiles turns to Derek with the most wicked smile plastered on his face, eyes shining in the low light.

“I really fucking love you,” Derek says, shaking his head at him.

“I know,” Stiles answers, rubbing their noses together. “I really fucking love you, too.”

Derek leans in to bring their lips together, tasting Stiles and Isaac’s cocktail and the faint traces of lipstick he had on before. He licks his way into Stiles’ mouth and enjoys the way Stiles opens up to him, enjoys it when he gets a hand under his shirt to trace his abs, and how Stiles just completely relaxes against him.

“Dance with me,” Stiles says, tracing Derek’s lower lip with his tongue before biting at it gently.

“I don’t dance,” Derek smirks at him, covering Stiles’ mouth with his own.

Stiles laughs into the kiss, getting his fingers under the waistband of Derek’s jeans and saying, “With me you do,” just before dragging him to the dance floor.

And as Stiles gets an arm around Derek’s neck and rolls their hips together, Derek leans in and whispers, “Yeah, I do.”

* * *

Derek can’t believe he’s doing this.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Derek tells Laura, staring at her with panicked eyes.

“C’mon, little brother,” Laura pats him on the cheek. “It’s _in the name of love_.”

“I hate you,” Derek mumbles, voice laced with nerves.

“Are you more nervous because of,” Laura gestures at him. “All of _this,_ or because you’re going to ask him to put up with your shit for the rest of his life?”

Derek swallows hard, because he’s not sure.

He knows in his mind that there is no doubt that Stiles is totally and completely willing to put up with Derek’s shit for the rest of his life, but that still doesn’t make the situation any less nerve-wrecking.

Especially when he has to worry about not falling flat on his ass while wearing black and chrome high heel [sandals](http://www.loveitsomuch.com/stores/black-chrome-high-heel-sandals-1342149865,11310.html).

 _In the name of love_.

“I don’t know,” is what Derek settles for, because he _doesn’t_. “It’s just. I’m finally going to. I. And Stiles.”

“Very eloquent,” Laura nods, going back to doing Derek’s makeup.

“Shut up,” Derek tells her, and then tries again. “I love him, and this means I’m going to get to keep him for the rest of our lives. Excuse me if I’m a little bit nervous about finally allowing myself to have good things and _keep_ them.”

“I don’t think Stiles will appreciate being referred to as a _thing_ ,” Laura says, her voice soft. “But I think I get it. Sometimes I still feel like our lives are too… too _good_ and _stable_ and _normal_ and that I’m sitting here playing along while I wait for something really bad to happen and take it all away from me again.”

Derek blinks up at Laura, because, “Yeah. That’s it.”

“Don’t worry,” Laura says, patting his head reassuringly. “We need to have some good stuff to balance out the bad, and Stiles is _definitely_ your good stuff.”

“I don’t think Stiles will appreciate being referred to as _stuff_ ,” Derek says back, offering his sister a smile.

Laura rolls her eyes at him before grabbing a lipstick and telling Derek to, “Open your mouth.”

Derek wrinkles his nose at her before doing so, smacking his lips together when Laura tells him to.

“This is a dream come true for you, isn’t it?” Derek asks as Laura steps back, eyeing himself in the mirror.

“Yes,” Laura smiles at him, and then frowns. “But you kind of look a lot like me this way, I’m not sure if I like it.”

“Though shit,” Derek says, getting up from his chair. “Now help me get into my dress.”

“Spoken like a true Queen,” Laura sniffles, unzipping the plastic cover and taking Derek’s dress out. “Stiles would be proud.”

“He better be,” Derek sighs, letting Laura help him get dressed. “I’m doing this for him.”

“ _In the name of love_ ,” Laura adds, zipping the dress up. “Can I ask you something?”

“If you must,” Derek shrugs, going to work on his wig.

“Why red?” Laura asks, pointing at his dress.

“Stiles’ favorite color,” Derek smiles a little. “And he was wearing a red dress the night I decided to get him back and never let him go again.”

“Touching,” Laura says, her sarcasm falling flat when Derek turns to see the fond smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Derek smiles at her, bright and big and genuine. “Thanks for helping me with this.”

“You’re welcome,” Laura answers, coming up to him and kissing him on the cheek. “You got it from here?”

Derek nods at her, suddenly feeling nervous again.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Laura rolls her eyes at him. “Stiles would be _crazy_ to say no to you.”

“Stiles _is_ crazy,” Derek tells her.

“Don’t be dumb,” Laura points a finger at him. “You know what I mean, just like you know he’s going to say yes and you’ll get married and have babies and annoy me for the rest of my life.”

Derek laughs at that, grabbing her in a hug. “Thanks, sis.”

“You’re welcome, baby bro,” Laura squeezes him back before letting go. “Now go get things ready while I go make sure Stiles gets here only when he’s supposed to get here.”

Derek waves her off, and now he’s standing alone in the middle of their finished bedroom at what used to be the old Hale house and _freaking the fuck out_.

Because this is it.

Tonight, he’s going to ask Stiles to marry him.

He’s going to ask Stiles to spend the rest of his life with him and have his babies and not have sex with anyone else other than him for the rest of their lives.

He’s going to tell Stiles he loves him and that there’s no one else he’d rather be with, because Stiles is his good thing and Derek would like to be his.

That is, if Stiles would have him.

And as he takes the first step towards their new bed, he really fucking hopes Stiles will say yes.

And he also makes a mental note to buy Laura some expensive shoes in thanks for teaching him how to walk in heels for tonight and to start giving Stiles foot rubs after each performance.

Because heels _hurt_ and his respect for whoever choses to wear them just skyrocketed into infinity.

He takes a deep breath and takes the one of the bags of rose petals prompted against the foot of the bed and tries not to cringe at the cheesiness as he starts throwing them randomly over the bedspread and onto the floor of their bedroom.

Because Stiles did say he expected flowers, so that’s exactly what Derek is going to give him.

He manages not to fall to a terrible death as he grabs another bag and moves to start working on covering the stairs, using one of his hands to hold his dress and the bag up while the other spreads petals on the steps as he climbs down.

Derek changes his mental note into buying Laura flats, because women should not be subjected to the torture that is walking down the stairs wearing heels.

More than once he has to stop and hold himself up against the wall because he thinks he is going to fall face first into the stairs.

He surprises himself when he feels more worried about ruining his dress and the marriage proposal than ruining his face in case he trips and crashes.

When he’s done with the petals he just spends a few seconds smiling smugly at his handwork, thinking about the face Stiles will make when he gets home and finds _this_ waiting for him.

And then he starts thinking about the face Stiles will make when he finds _Derek_ like this waiting for him.

And _then_ he has to stop thinking about it all together otherwise he’ll never finish this.

Not that he has that much to do now that the rose petals are everywhere, considering he didn’t get the permit to set off fireworks on time and he still has some sense of self-preservation not to try and light candles in the house.

He takes one of the blank place cards he stole from Lydia the last time she decided to come back to Beacon Hills and throw them dinner and the glittery sparkly pen he found in the middle of Stiles things, writing down Stiles’ name in front of the card and spending about three minutes trying to decide what to write inside of it only to end up with _just follow the roses_ scribbled in silver on top of the cream paper.

Sometimes Derek weeps for his lack of creativity.

And then he gets the idea of drawing something.

So he spends another 15 minutes drawing foxes all over the card. Some of them chasing each other, others curled up and sleeping together, all of them being ridiculously cute.

He places the card on the first step of the stairs, surrounded by rose petals, and smiles.

And then he braces himself to climb up the stairs again wearing heels and a long dress.

When he gets to their bedroom again he stops and looks around, trying to decide how he’s going to do this.

But first, he checks his cleavage, making sure the little black box with Stiles’ ring is where it’s supposed to be.

Derek walks around the entire room about three times trying to decide where he should sit to wait for Stiles, and in the end he just ends up perched on top of their dresser with his legs crossed, feet in heels poking under the hem of his dress.

His heart almost leaps out of his chest when his phone vibrates next to him and he sees it’s a text from Laura, letting him know that they’re on their way.

In the span of ten minutes he gets more texts from Allison, Scott, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Danny, and even the Sheriff, all of them saying _you go, bro_ or _fucking finally_ or _congratulations, son_.

Derek blinks at all of them and wonders if he already asked Stiles to marry him and Stiles said yes but no one bothered to tell him about it, because that’s what this feels like right now.

He’s also glad no one’s there to see him because he jumps about a foot in the air when he hears Laura’s car outside, and Stiles’ laughter, and the slamming of doors, and Laura yelling goodbye and driving away.

He’s almost positive he’s on the verge of having a heart attack when he hears the front door open and Stiles call out to him in question.

“Derek?” Stiles yells. “I don’t know what I’m doing here but-”

The front door closing and not opening again as Stiles cuts off abruptly probably means he saw the petals and the card and is coming up the stairs, and not that he took one look at everything and decided to run away screaming that he _cannot do this_.

Derek feels about zero-point-one percent more encouraged when he hears Stiles’ footsteps up the stairs, and about ninety-nine-point-nine percent more nervous and like he’s about to die as he listens to him getting closer and closer to their bedroom.

He tries to school his face in an expression of looking a little less freaked out, but everything flows out the window when Stiles opens the door to the room and steps inside.

Stiles has the place card in a knuckle-white grip, his lips red as he gapes at Derek, his eye wide and cheeks flushed and Derek can’t really help it when he smiles at him.

“What do you think?” Derek asks, gesturing at himself.

Stiles just continues to gape at him as he rakes his eyes over Derek’s red chiffon [dress](http://www.newstyledressshops.com/prom-dresses-c-1/red-chiffon-sheath-long-prom-dress-with-vneck-and-pleated-bodice-p-318.html) with a deep v-neck and pleated bodice, heel sandals, black painted nails, and long black wavy [wig](http://www.amazon.com/Long-black-curly-sweep-fringe/dp/B003U2CJH2) with bangs.

Derek slides off the dresser and walks towards him, Stiles making a noise at the back of his throat as Derek’s dress flows behind him.

Stiles still doesn’t say anything as Derek takes him by the hands and pulls him further into the room, positioning so he has his back to their bed while Derek stands in front of him.

He figures it might be a good thing to have a mattress at Stiles’ back in case he decides to do something dramatic like _pass out_.

Because considering how pale he looks and how shiny his eyes are right now, that doesn’t seem like a stretch.

“Hey,” Derek says, rubbing circles with his thumbs over the back of Stiles’ hands.

“Hi,” Stiles croaks out, biting down on his bottom lip when Derek smiles at him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get the fireworks,” Derek whispers, smile widening when all Stiles does is close his eyes and shake his head at Derek. “But the flowers are here,” Derek continues. “And I also got you a ring.”

He hears Stiles’ sharp intake of breath as he lets go of one of his hands to reach inside his cleavage, coming up with the little black box he hid in it.

Derek raises the hand that’s still clasping Stiles’, turning them so Stiles has his palm up.

“I could go on and on and on about all of the reasons why I love you,” Derek says as he stares at Stiles straight in the eye, his voice low and soft. “And why I want to spend the rest of forever with you.”

Stiles sniffles at that, lower lip trembling as he listens to Derek.

“But I’m not going to,” Derek gives him a small smile. “Because that would mean I’d be too busy talking instead of actually spending the rest of my life with you, and I know I wouldn’t want that.”

Stiles lets out a watery laugh that soon turns into a choke-up gasp when Derek opens the little black box and places it on top of Stiles’ hand, the silver band resting inside it glinting in the low bedroom light.

“You told me once I deserved good things,” Derek says, his voice cracking as he cups Stiles’ cheek with one hand and wipes away the tears with his thumb. “And standing right in front of me is the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my life.”

Stiles moves to rest their foreheads together, mumbling “Just ask me already,” against Derek’s lips.

Derek lets out a low chuckle at that, tilting Stiles’ face up with a finger on his chin so they’re staring in each other’s eyes again.

“Marry me.”

Stiles blinks at him, licking his lips, “I don’t think that was a question.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at him.

He should have known Stiles would make a funny in the middle of his marriage proposal instead of fucking _answering the question_ and stopping Derek from having a _nervous breakdown._

“Foxy,” Derek whispers, breath ghosting over Stiles’ lips.

“Yes?”

“Will you marry me?”

Stiles’ answer is not much of one as it is him grabbing the box, taking the silver band and sliding it in his ring finger, throwing the box away, and _lunging_ himself at Derek.

Derek, who has no idea how he doesn’t topple over when Stiles gets his legs wrapped around his waist, since he is, you know, _wearing heels_.

And it’s not until they’re lying naked in bed, Derek with smudges of eyeliner all over his cheeks and both of them with rose petals glued to their asses and come drying on their skins that Derek realizes Stiles didn’t say yes.

“This was great,” Derek says, sliding a hand down Stiles’ body to rest against the swell of his ass. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” Stiles asks, propping himself on one elbow and looking down at Derek.

Derek raises an eyebrow at him.

“Oh,” Stiles smiles, poking him in the chest. “Ask me again.”

“Will you marry me?”

Stiles bites down on his bottom lips and brings his left hand up in front of them, staring at the band resting on his finger.

“It looks good, doesn’t it?” Stiles asks, tilting his head to the side and he wiggles his fingers.

“ _Stiles_.”

Stiles huffs, shifting in bed until he’s lying on top of Derek.

“Ask me again,” Stiles tells him, biting down on his bottom lip.

Derek brings his hands up to cup Stiles’ face as he asks once again, “ _Will you marry me_?”

And then Stiles is beaming, bright and big, and saying, “ _Yes_.”

And Derek thinks that if this is what forever looks like, Stiles staring down at him with eyes filled with such happiness and love, then it might just be the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so now i have a tag for the _amazing_ graphics and covers people made for this story and if you want to fawn over this perfect people and their work you can just click [here](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/tagged/bright-eyes-art).
> 
> a million and one thanks to [beth](http://foreverblue-navy.tumblr.com) for agreeing to beta this monster for me and just being the sweetest person ever.
> 
> all the love to [leah](http://mozzierella.tumblr.com) for not batting an eyelash to all my weird questions and discussing plot aspects with me and sending me all the drunk texts.
> 
> AND ALL THE BEST to all of you gorgeous people who left kudos and comments and yelled at me on tumblr and just YOU WERE GREAT and made writing this the greatest experience ever! *throws confetti*

**Author's Note:**

> you can go yell at me on [tumblr](http://www.dylansmouth.tumblr.com)


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